I'm sorry. I've tried to answer the comments but somehow I just can't bring myself to it.. I've started. Replied half way through and then deleted the whole shit because I started feeling too anxious about it. So please, forgive me. I'm trying and failing.

Trying and failing.
That's the thing of today, I suppose.
I feel empty again and I'm starting to get sick of this feeling. My chest hurts and it's hard to breathe again. But the pain in my chest is the worst of the two. I can't make it stop, it just hammers there like trying to break through my bones. Hurts.

I'm tired. I want to see friends and yet I want to be alone.
I don't know what I want.
That's pretty much it.
My mind's a mess.

Oops. I think I did it again. 

Oops. I guess they're bleeding again. 

But what can you do when you never get wiser. 

I suppose I'm just not wearing a skirt tomorrow. 

worthless

If the goal of your life is to make me feel depressed an suicidal you're working pretty bloody well on that.. I can't even find myself capable of being angry anymore. I just feel like curling up into a tighter ball to the corner and crying a bit more as if I didn't feel pathetic enough already. I'm tired of trying. I'm tired of trying to please you or trying to find the way you want things done. My mental health just can't take it anymore. To be honest, I don't know what it could take.. because I just feel like everything I do is shit and nothing will ever be good enough. That's why I stopped trying. Because I've just realized that I'll never make it. I get disappointed anyway. I get shouted at anyway. Why should I try? There's nothing to motivate me to try anymore. I rather get shouted at of things that I haven't done than of something that I've tried to do.

When I woke up today, I felt quite good. For the longest time I actually felt alive. I felt like I could do this. I planned on baking a cake for Mother's Day on Sunday. Planned on baking tomorrow.
And now? I just pretty much feel like crying. I made a pancake batter and that's about it. Cleaned after myself everything I had used, emptied the dishwasher and put the dirty plates and such there. All I got was a mocking comment from my dad about some dishes that hadn't been done yet.
Somehow I just lost all my interest to bake anything ever again.

I just want to wrap up into a blanket and stay in my own little bubble. I've been hiding in my room, crying, and hoping that no one will come here. I don't think I could handle that today. I'm not sure if I could handle that even tomorrow.
Apparently dad's having a day off tomorrow. I'll go to the library. I'm not staying home. No fucking way.

I want to write but I can't. I just can't. I don't know what to say.
I'm feeling so silly again.
In the best possible way.
Oh the best possible way~

How can something so small feel so good.
Can we do it again?
Please.
Will you allow me to do it again?
If I ask nicely.