Sick

I'm sick of not being able to eat what I want.
I'm sick of not being able to eat what I'm supposed to be able to eat.
I'm sick of work.
I'm sick of homework.
I'm sick of going to class.
I'm sick of the literal headaches.
I'm sick of my head spinning.
I'm sick of being alone despite being in a crowd.
I'm sick of filling the void myself.
I'm sick of repressing my urges and my addictions.
I'm sick of holding it all inside because I don't think anyone can help me except me.
I'm sick of not knowing what to do with myself, with my life.
I'm sick of falling in love with everyone and tearing my own heart out everytime (I'm sick of being an emotional masochist).
I'm sick of not being able to cry when it's all I really want to do because I know I will feel better.
I'm sick of shaking.
I'm sick of being dizzy.
I'm sick of chewing on my own fingers.
I'm sick of jealousy.
I'm sick of feeling so much and not being able to (or too scared to) express it.
I'm sick of being tired all the time. I want to be able to meditate without falling asleep.
I'm sick of the painful thoughts.
I'm sick of the scary thoughts.
I'm sick of thinking about hurting myself to wake me up from this bad dream.
I'm sick of being depressed.
I'm sick of being here.
I want to go away because of the situations.
But I want to stay here because of the people (I really do love you all -- you know who you are).
I want to bite someone. And not have them care. At least not in a bad way.
I want to understand women.
I want to understand life.
I mostly want to understand me.

I want to live without worry. Even for a day. Worry about work. Worry that I'm going to lose those close to me (especially if it's because of something I've done...and that's why I hide inside).

I want....
- composed 3/11/1999