Thursday 14th June 2001- I wish I was crazy

Why do I always seem to write in this diary when things are bad? Correction, when things are terrible, because things are always bad. This is the only place I have to vent, my true area of emotional drainage, there is not one human on earth who I can cry my deepest pain to. Hell, I wish there was, because as good as my friends are, some things can never go beyond the walls of this house and the people in it. Every day hurts a little more. My soul is haemorrhaging in ten different places from ten different wounds and it’s bleeding not with my blood but with my essence, my life and very being are being drained away and this latest stab is only the most recent in a long line of internal puncture wounds. Another hole in my soul. So what caused it this time? Mam is suicidal. I swear you can smell the depression in this house as soon as you walk in the door, you can feel it like fingers around your neck, like cold knife blades in your soul. It’s too much. Too many bad things are happening and I bleed, I bleed inside as I scream and drown in the fluid that leaks out. But I’ll never show it from the outside. Exterior hasn’t been pierced yet, because if I let it show, just how bad I feel, I’ll make it worse for everyone else, it might pierce other peoples souls they way mine has been pierced. I’d like to say I’m going crazy but I’m not. If I was it might be easier as then I couldn’t feel this. I wish I was crazy. Or better yet, dead.