not that anyone will read this

but I don't care. I need to write something down. This is the only place where if I do write it down, chances are I'll forget about it and never come across it again.

that I have much will power to write anything...my palms feel like there's some sort of magnet in them that pushed my hands away from my keyboard...stupid, right?

so...i think im managing to make my grandmother resent me. i guess im still not happy enough around her. i try my best but...i cant wear a mask that does nothing but smile and pretend nothing's wrong. it's easier to shut off. 

no...it's easier to pretend when no one can see your face and call you out. maybe that's why i've been coming here so much lately. maybe that's why i can't face going to class most of the time or become distressed at the idea of being in public. maybe that's why i'm  going to give up on theatre once im out of college. 

but let's face it: i can't act. can't sing. i have the grace of a dead pigeon and resting bitch face...i don't like being around people and they don't like being around me. 

but they say it's good for me to talk to people. i know some of them care-genuinely care-but what does it matter how much they care if I don't? does it make any difference? if i still have the urge to seclude myself somewhere for five minutes just to tell myself not to break into tears for no reason, then what good is being around people really doing? what good is school if i can't even go to class most of the time and i'm just scrapping by? what good is an education if im so broken, i dont even know if i can hold a job? what good am i to my family if i cant even help with the simplest things? 

hell i cant even write or draw most of the time. there's at least a dozen stories that i haven't updated in over two years. and the stories i have written for turn darker and darker with my mood, so it's best i stay away from them for a while. 

im pathetic. too selfish to fake being happy and yet i care to much to even think about putting a bullet through my skull. 

this doesn't make any sense. i thought i was happy. now i don't think i even know what the word means any more. i mean im obviously not happy if im not even flattered by flirting or i want to sleep all the time because it's easier then being awake and dealing with reality. i mean i must not be content if id rather deal with the hellish nightmares than day to day life where people are kind to me.

im just...broken. irreversibly broken and no amount of medication or counseling is going to make it better. 

i feel like a piece of shit. i let myself be late on assignments, i dont earn any income, i barely keep in touch with people...one of my friends i went to high school with got married yesterday and i completely forgot about it. i couldn't even muster a sincere congratulations because my head is too numb. what's worse, i made my grandmother feel bad because i couldnt be fucking adult enough to not cry in front of her just because she asked why i was unhappy. 

and i dont have an answer. all i can say is 'i am happy' because i dont know why im not! and then i just snapped. i let myself cry and i just told her i fucked up and i dont know how to be fixed. i told her i cant be fixed. and for some reason, that felt like it was the most honest thing i'd said in a long time.

and it looked like it destroyed her. and that made me feel like trash. 

i cant be a part of anyone's life without hurting them. maybe that's why im not happy...

it's just...i do what the counselor says. i do grounding methods, breathing exercises, i try to take better care of myself, and NOTHING IS WORKING! and im supposed to be with my family in wyoming next year, but i cant go to them like this and i cant leave my grandmother like this, but i cant ask her to put up with me either because i dont even want to look at myself in the mirror most days and-

...im just broken and i want to be fixed. is that too much to ask?