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Here's what going on in my head currently:

Brain: "But you've not done anything in your life."
Me: "I've done plenty. Seen plenty. I'm tired."
Brain: "Others are more sick than you."
Me: "I can hardly get out of bed."
Brain: "You can in an emergency which means you can."
Me: "I'm sitting here worrying that I won't be able to get my medication because its a blizzard out and my asthma will send me to hospital. But I have no choice because my stupid psychologist won't get it for me and just give it to me. I'm seeing her tomorrow, so what's her problem? Its two minutes for her to go get it and a whole day in the hospital hooked up to needles and a breathing machine for me. She's gotten it all this time before and now she's making up this bullshit lie about how she doesn't do med runs anymore, while she tells me she has to run because she has to go on a med run. Does that make sense to you? She doesn't believe me. It feels like she wants me to die. Everyone wants me to die."
Brain: "Your friends don't want you to die."
Me: "I know."
Brain: "Then its not everyone."
Me: "They'll leave me when they find out how sick I am. Everyone always does."
Brain: "We can hope they don't."
Me: "Hope is a lie to myself to keep me alive in this torture for no reason. Why burden young people with a sick person's troubles? I don't want to steal their lives. It makes me sad to wash away their bright, hopeful lights. I don't want to spoil their happy fun by saying I have to go to the doctor or that I feel like crap anymore."
Brain: "You are young, too. And you used the word hope."
Me: "My body does not feel young. And hope for them is different. They can do anything they wish for. I can not. I'm so close to being in a wheelchair again. I can hardly stand. Its all I can do at work to not collapse on the floor. In the hallways I'm already flopping against the walls to stay up. If I wonder what is causing this weakness does it even matter?"
Brain: "You can get better and pursue your dreams. You can be a singer and a writer."
Me: "Everyone always compares my writing to my influences. Its not original. And my singing...no one ever says anything good about my singing. I know I sing wonderfully, but its never appreciated. That is its own torture. Ever since I was 8 years old I've been looking for a band that is serious. I never found even one person. What does that say about me?"
Brain: "It means they're wrong."
Me: "But how would you know that, though? How much does a serated knife hurt? Will it make the blood flow more and the wounds less able to close?"
Brain: "You know you won't cut yourself with a dirty knife."
Me: "Well, at least that's something."

I'm not going to commit suicide. You can stop worrying, as if anyone is reading this. I'm just sick of being fake and hiding everything because people don't want to hear my bullshit. I'm not good at killing myself, as you can see I'm here. I'd have been dead 14 years ago if I was. No one's going to open their arms to me and embrace me and let me cry on them. I have to swallow this once more and just live this meaningless life until these illnesses take me. Will it be on the street? Its looking that way. So more likely if you don't hear from me for a while I'm not dead, but homeless.

A lot of people tell me to suck it up and get a job, go to college, live normal. Could you live normal if your arms felt like they were a million pounds? Could you live a normal life if one leg was weak and stiff and swollen and hurting you and your other was in so much agony that you can't lay down? Could you live normal if your back felt like someone was trying very hard to rip out your spine all the time? Could you live normal if you suddenly got very weak at odd moments, so much so that you can no longer support your own body weight, and fell down, completely concious and scared? Could you live normal if everything you ate made you feel so nauseous you get dizzy? Could you live normal if when you walk, any time you walk, your lungs become like concrete blocks in your chest and just as breathable? Could you live normal if suddenly, for no reason at all, your faces flushes and throbs and a migraine comes and you get so dizzy your head swims?

I try so hard to appear normal. I smile but my eyes do not follow. I make small talk. I say hello. But on the inside I'm crying, "please help me. Oh god, please help me, I feel like I'm going to die." But no one can help me. I know no one can help me.

If you had a life like mine, would you choose to live it?

And I know, emo emo emo. You don't need to tell me.

[edit]: And now I'm in the mood where I'm going to do everything they want me to do today just to show them how much it will hurt me. They won't give a goddamn, but...whatever. I just don't care anymore.

[edit]: The next day: I was totally wiped last night and slept from 5pm to 7am. >.< I wonder what will happen to me. I saw my psychologist and she put me on a different depression medication. This one has the added effect of making the metabolism faster, so we'll see about this. Being skinnier would definetly make me happier (somehow, can't quite explain it in words).

[edit]: and then the happy reality check: I bought white chocolate Lindt truffles and a kyoot animatronic cheetah yesterday that moves and roars for $5 marked down from $20 because of after christmas, and I'm happy about that. Also I have to wait for Albare by Paradeis so I can't kill myself, der o.O thank goodness for J-rock and chocolate and fluffy stuffed cheetahs. I'm sure people would be sad if I died, so let's not make it earlier than it has to be.