1/1

 I'm kinda drunk right now. I was meaning to do this earlier like yesterday when it was still 2020, but I guess I fucked up as usual. I'm alive, blogger. I made it to another year. I just wanted to write to you to let you know I'm alive. I left things kind of in the air last time. I did not kill myself as you can read. I actually made it alive. And now I'm a doctor that still thinks about death, her own death a lot. But I'm keeping it together. This holidays have been hard, I keep remembering about last year, and I don't know why thinking about me depressed last year kinda depressed me now. My grandpa is dying. He's the love of my life. I feel unhappy. But that's usual. I don't know what to do with my life. But that's also usual. I. I just don't know shit, alright? I just want to be drunk. 'cause I'm sad. My bones kind of hurt. I'm so disappointed.

17/10

Lately all I've been thinking about is suicide. Suicide. Suicide. Suicide. And I don't get it. Since I'm still unable to do it. I can't do that to my family. But it's a recurrent thought. When I was young I used to think about death a lot, but it was mostly center in a selfish way of thinking about my funeral. It wasn't like this. I keep picturing ways of ending my life. I been over and over plans, analysing the best procedure, the less painful, the most successful. I'm kinda scared. But I kind of have the certainty I can't do it. Right?

21/9

 The thing is I feel like a bother. Wow, here again so soon? Unappreciated, so original. But I guess that's the truth. I have been writing songs since 2014, successfully probably since 2016. And not even my mom has ever asked me to play any to her. I just grabbed my grandpa's guitar, on a rush of blood to the head, and told him I'd play him a song I wrote, and my grandma kept interrupting me singing other songs and my grandpa wasn't even paying attention. How's that supposed to make me feel? Not even my friends ask me to play my songs, not even the one that was my boyfriend. Do they suck? Probably. I know I'm the only one who likes them. Some of my friends try to sound nice, except from that time they told me all my songs sound like church songs and I stopped writing, singing and playing for a while, and ok, I can't take criticism. But hey! that's because no one has ever sit to listen to me and say something. After I digested the "church songs" thing I actually started to try to improve, see? That was good. But since then, nothing much has changed. Even my mom mocks me and my songs. Once I played in front of one of my best friends and what they did? They started to get distracted with something else or to speak! And ok, I'm a dramatic untalented piece of shit, fine! But say something! Ask something! Tell to stop OR SOMETHING! *Sigh* Ok. I think I let all that out. That's why I never offer to play anything... Because I know nobody wants me to. And I guess that's fine, my songs would keep being my songs. And only mine. Sorry for being such a dramatic bitch.

18/9

 I thought I should write this now while I'm on a break between movies while I try to get back on my feet. I had a weird panic/depression attack earlier and I'm not quite back on my feet. Should I describe it? I don't know, even if for future reminders. All I'm going to say it's I'm not sure where it came from but suddenly I was laying on the bathroom floor unable to get up. I don't know how much time I laid there but writing this down is bringing tears to my eyes so I'm gonna stop. 

I had previously decided to come here because last night I finished reading the Princess Diaries and I came to a realization about myself while reading it. I wanted to come and complain how I felt about the saga but now I'm terrify the reason I'm like this is because of it. I mean, I always get this sadness when finishing a book I'm way too invested in. And I don't know why I got so invested in it since I hated most of the time I spend reading it. You see, Mia is annoying. But to be fair I also had a good time reading. After all that must justify the fact that I spent complete days dedicated to it. I got to read three books in a day. Just picture how invested I was. And I don't know if it's because it's the only books I got to read without feeling guilty for reading it for the first time in my career (since I'm doing my rural intership) but let's be honest and real... That's not it. Maybe I was just bored. Or I just fell in love with Michael. That could be. You see... I wrote all of this last night, I think, so I should probably just shut up and copy here what I wrote yesterday and if there's anything not clear, I'll finish the idea.

Romance novels are everything, because who doesn't love a good romance? But not all of us want to be in love. It was a discovery that took me a couple of years and couple of mistakes and cryings and depression. But that I eventually came to. Still romance novels are all I breath for and why I get so invested in them. I love them. Because they make me feel what I can't feel in real life. Though right now, due to the last novel I read, I miss all that “smelling neck” weirdness. Because I have totally experience that dreadful feeling. When someone just smells so good. Not his cologne, not his soap, them! That feeling is magical 'cause it's the best definition about love being a drug. That smell can get you so high. I guess that's why I got so invested in that novel, 'cause I had known the feeling. But in reality, I hate it. I hate coming across any similiar smell and be struck like an arrow in your gut. Because it never asks. Just strikes you. I don't believe in high school sweethearts being the ones for life. I don't envy that at all. But the plan. God. I wish I was the kind of girl that can get satisfied with a plan. To love somebody that much you could share a plan. Wow. I do envy that. 

I think that's all. Why it affected me this much, I don't know. Perhaps a part of me it's still inside the novel and it's getting hard to get out. But perhaps, as I said in Twitter, in a couple of days my mind will be mine again. This is just abstinence. I went, as usual, on a rush to finish. I ate those books as usual and I didn't let myself some time to process. Though I did the same with Jamie and Claire but perhaps with them was different because I know their story isn't over yet and I can obsess over the next one, whenever it is going to be published. I guess, I don't know why this feels different perhaps it doesn't and it's just that I don't recall all my previous abstinence-from-books episodes, but it feels different. Perhaps, just perhaps, it's just that it came on a hard time of my life, with my rural intership causing me a collapse and my thesis being a mess and me finally accepting that I have to let that recurrent someone go... Let's admit it, it's maybe because of that. Because recently I have finally decided to let go this someone who happens to be the only person I had ever experienced that "neck smelling" thing and the only person I ever consider I could do an exception on my plans. Someone with whom I could share a plan. Let's admit it, it's that. It just occurred to me, that is also Mia herself. I saw myself reflected in her a lot, and all of her mistakes. And the parts where she denied to see or do the things she had to, that I had denied myself too. Her stupidity reminded me of me. And that Mia went through depression and that hit somewhere too close from home. But either way, I'm going to get myself back together. I have to. I can't keep thinking about suicide. I have to get myself together. Things would be fine. I'll be fine. I'm not alone, I got myself. My rock. And got my family. So, that's it, blogger, I'm going to watch The Secret Life of Walter Mitty to feel some inspo. See you next I'm broken.

31/03

Well, after two panic attacks, yelling to myself in the mirror how much I hated myself and after hurting my arms with my nails; I think I can say I'm fine. Or probably not. I'm using my anti-anxiety drugs to get to sleep today.
Today, officially (and probably definitely) my relationship is over (we broke up in the last days of November but got back together in January). And I feel terribly bad because I ended it and probably not in a good way. Sadly for me I don't feel the same way I used to feel when it all started and actually I started drifting away a long time ago, I just didn't want to accept it. I didn't want to get out of my comfort zone even though I was hurting someone, and (even more sadly for me) I didn't want to let people down. But you just can't live your life to make people feel good. That's what I try to remember myself all the time. That's what having a panic attack for my Thanatophobia reminds me of. I have to be ok with this. He would be fine. I hope he would be.

After writing this, I feel a little better, at least I'm not thinking about suicide that much anymore.