My brother told me that he looks up to me. He said it's unreal how I deal with things sometimes, that it's unnatural for anyone to be able to go through the things I went through and still be happy and fine, and that no one in the world would believe I'm not fine.

My parents and brother are spending the night at my aunt's house tonight, which means I'm home alone with the dogs, cat, and snake. I went downtown tonight because my weekend has been crap on ice. I went downtown to pick a fight with someone I thought would have the balls to kill me. Gun me down, curb me, run me over, beat the life out of me while I walked through the less supervised parts of downtown. I yearned for it, but you know people.. they love to avoid conflict.

My night got a whole lot better while I stood around at the riverside park. I felt peace and the quiet balance of calm entering my life once again. I walked around a bit more, my eyes focusing on some imaginary horizon. The drive home was superb.

I got home and was great till I read something. Now, I'm sitting in my boxers with the fan on while my body shakes uncontrollably. I don't think it's because I'm cold or anything, but rather that it has to do with some stuff I took. Or maybe that soy corndog was bad? I don't know.

I'm not dealing with life too well right now. I can't find one single reason why I shouldn't kill myself, except for one far-fetched reason that proves my disillusionment. And in my heart I know it's very likely that'll be the senior to die this year... one always does at our school.

I'm not afraid of death, no matter what lies ahead. I'm not afraid of suicide. I'm just lazy, I guess. I don't feel up to offing myself at the present moment.

When I was happy just Thursday it was sincere. I was at peace and I was content. Now, when I go to school Monday-I know I'll be too lazy to kill myself between now and then-it will be a front. And even the people who read this won't be able to tell the difference. They won't want to. They'll want to believe I'm fine and dandy and when I tell them I am, they'll leave it alone and continue on with business as usual.

I have never really had a friend that cared about me much. I have those friends that ask me if I'm okay when they haven't talked to me for a while or when they think I'm "not being myself." None of my "friends" know who in the hell I am, but they try to claim that they do for at least 20 minutes every week day-unless it requires any amount of effort.

I'm going to go back to cutting myself. I found an Xacto blade and think it's a sign that I need to make with the pretty designs. I have lots of free time and I've gone soft. It almost hurt when I slammed my head into the corner of the car door. I didn't even bleed.. much less hinder my amazingly thick skull. I'll have to draw where the art isn't visible, though. If someone sees it, they might try to contact someone who will send me to one of those babbling quacks or something.

I've never done much to my legs... or my stomach. Once I got out the kitchen scissors and dragged the tip across my back. It didn't do too much damage, I didn't even need stitches.

Anyway, I think I'm going to go reach a state of oblivion.. and when my body goes numb, I can see how deep I have to cut before I feel restraint. I'm sure it won't be too deep, I don't feel like cleaning up all the blood.

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Heart vs mind.