So, my mom has suggested that I possibly see a doctor, mostly because I've been so fothermucking tired recently, and because I've most of the time felt, well, not so good.
I ain't quite what I used to be, it seems.
Anyway, she's making an appointment for me to see a doctor.
Well, I guess I'll tell you how I feel.
For some reason, I keep thinking I feel like Winston Smith did in 1984, every time I lie down I feel something like strangely grateful, because I feel like I've been beaten, and just to lie down feels like a luxury I'm not quite worthy of... I just feel so tired, physically. I mean, this is a bit how I felt last year when swimming about 6 miles a day at 2 practices, except that it's worse and I feel like it all the time.
I can just feel when I lie down the strength gathering in my body, it seems like, finally.
Other than that I'm also very tired mentally too, like I seem fine, in fact at least as good as ever, at school, in the falling-asleep department, but at the most odd times I just get exhausted and nearly fall asleep, like it'll be 6 pm and I'll be like heading to bed cause I'm just too fucking tired. I don't seem quite as capable of concentrating on homework or anything else as usual, although that isn't quite as unusual as I am quite the procrastinator just like everyone else who ever lived.
So, in other words, I feel tired, cold, a lot of the time.
And then, emotionally, I feel like a steaming dump, frankly.
Like, nothing particularly is going especially wrong, although I always feel, always seem to have an impending sense of doom, like something bad is about to happen...
But then I feel like nothing, really nothing good is going on either... And so I feel useless and bored, just kinda floating along, speeding along the path leading to eventual death without actually doing anything.
Bored, that's really how I feel.
But I feel seemingly a total lack of interest in basically anything, it seems, I'm quite sure that I'll be quitting swim team sometime in the very near future, I just cannot motherfucking handle it anymore, after 5 fucking years.
In the piano, I feel like total shit, because I listen to a song on Youtube and I get really excited, and I go down to learn it, then I lose interest in about 5 minutes and degenerate back into the same few rags. I've become good as ass at some really difficult ragtime pieces, but now that's really all I'm good at cause I can't get up the will to work anything new...
Like there's this piece, Solace, and it's really beautiful, but even if you can't tell, there's syncopation in it like a motherfucker, and I'm having a fucker of a time on it:
And so then I feel bored cause I can't get up the will to do anything, and so then I take a lot of showers and read a lot of books and just think, think, endlessly think, I feel like I'm trapped inside my head.
My thoughts run endlessly around in my head like scrambled eggs, seemingly without any prompting from me, about sometimes really morbid shit, sometimes just annoying.
To give a few examples, I've been way overdramatizing this guy Jun, cause he's Asian, and really cute, and for no reason I can't fathom cause I don't know him at all, he's specifically come to speak to me before and waved at me in the halls, and so then I wonder about his motives, and I just think and think and think about what it is he wants... (Side note, I'm quite 99% sure that the guy who sits next to me in German would totally fuck if I wanted too... I feel like I could use a fuck, but he's kinda gross, and I don't really even like him, hence why I'm not asking him out. But I keep flip-flopping on the fucking idea...)
And then I've spent a lot of time thinking about what it would be like to commit suicide, and how I would do it if I did. Again, to stress, I'm not really suicidal as of now, I'd have to be in shit a lot longer, at least another year or two, and a lot of hardships between now and when I'd commit suicide. Not saying I never would, but I'd really have to have no reason to live anymore, and I do now.
Like I thought, well, Jamie Hubley hung himself, right? I've heard that of a few others, like Billy Lucas. If I was going to hang myself, how would I do that? Well, you wanna try to break the neck, so try to fall a ways... We have this big drop from the second to the first floor of the house, I could wait for a time my parents are gone, measure out a rope... Tie it to the ceiling, jump off...
But then I wonder, even if you broke your neck, wouldn't you still be conscious for a bit longer as you suffocate? It just sounds so uncomfortable.
Anyway, I'd rather no one found my body if I committed suicide, so I'd probably do it in the woods, and that probably means slitting my wrists... That I don't think would be too painful, beyond the original cut, and that's really nothing. And then you kinda just slip away... But I've heard it doesn't always work.
Or I could just jump off some big natural cliff, but, again, not guaranteed to work.
And then I'd think about, well, I wonder, how often does it happen that people committing suicide change their minds after it's too late? Wouldn't I very likely do that? That's why I'd like to have time, lots of time, before ever doing such a thing, to think about it, consider every angle, everything I haven't considered...
And then, it seems like more and more often I go into these weird trances where I'm trying to sleep but I don't, I'm just semi-conscious, deep in thought.
There was something really odd last night where I was pretty conscious but literally paralyzed with fear. I wasn't really lucid, so I was lying in bed, had been trying to get to sleep for like an hour, but I was doing that weird deep-thought trance thing, and all of a sudden I thought of Christians, there's a billion or so of them in the world... That much lack of freethought... It all of a sudden terrified me, I thought of them as unthinking zombies, they'd infected everything, and now they were in my room, and if I turned around, I'd certainly see them. I tried, I really really tried to turn around, but it was just like in novels, when a character describes how they can't move, they're paralyzed with fear, and I never understood that, but I do now. I literally couldn't move, I desperately wanted to turn over to see the scary Christian zombie, maybe fight it off before it killed me, but I couldn't. It took a long time before I could move again...
Anyway, I've gone kinda into philosophical mode here, back to describing my state right now...
And then whenever I have a free moment to think, at school, or wherever, I immediately feel like I want to cry. Like every time I have a second to think, I immediately get all sad, like I just wanna fucking cry. I really don't often actually cry, but I feel like I want to, often enough.
And my libido is pretty well in the fucking trash, I'm like never turned on ever anymore.
Basically, it used to feel when I looked into the future that the future was a litany of holes, and bright lights, and shit. It was a quite literal mental sensation. There would have to be shit I'd have to deal with, holes, but then the lights, the bright lights, there'd be like one a month, would always have me having something to look forward to...
Now I feel like it's just darkness, not just holes, but just darkness. Not really bad, just nothing...
There's just nothing I love anymore, just no more real reasons to live anymore, it seems like.
At least I wouldn't be so tired if I was dead, but, hell, I wouldn't have tequila either...
Anyway, of course I do keep living, because I recognize that however hopeless I may feel and things might actually be right now, they will likely at some point in the future get better. I just don't feel like I've ever been this low before...
Anyway, real question/appeal of the journal, should I just tell my mom to stick the appointment? It was her idea in the first place, and I've gone along with it.
But still, I just have the nagging doubts, this could just all be in my fucking head, I could just be having a usual teen meltdown and I'm just a limp rag, and I can't handle it, or this might be some serious, medical deficiency or something or other of some kind.
I don't wanna call it anything yet, but I don't wanna be a Hypochondriac.
When I was 9, I went to the doctor, because I was freaking out about urinary frequency. Now, I figure, it was all in my fucking head, all I had was a big glass of water a few nights in a row, and the normal kind of OCD that everyone has, which is that I would go pee a little, then I'd drink a little more, then pee a little more, and I didn't have the willpower to just ignore the next urge, and I blew it out of proportion.
I did learn a lesson though, don't be a hypochondriac, you can blow anything you want out of proportion.
And I know teens practically self-diagnose another mental illness every day.
But, at the same time, if there's some legitimate medical thing I could do or use to feel better, then I probably should, and shouldn't just ignore it.
But, I dunno. Do you think I'm just fucking imagining this? I mean, my mom and dad have both voiced concerns over my recent malaise, but might that just be a usual roller coaster of emotions?
Might I just be overblowing the whole thing and making myself a whole lot worse in the process?
I don't fucking know, all I know is I'd feel worse if I got some appointment, and it turned out I was just making it all up...