I haven't felt real joy in months. The joys I felt since April have been increasingly more and more hollow. It's kinda like febreezing a room. If you spray febreeze into a room that smells like garbage, it usually ends up smelling like febreeze and garbage. The febreeze can distract from the garbage, but it doesn't completely cover it up. Happiness for me right now is ruined by knowing that I'm doomed to this room and feeling like the only way I can truly escape is to die. This has only been getting worse. My life is a bomb and I feel completely out of control as to when it will finally explode. I don't even know what that explosion would look like. I just hope I can wait a week and my T can help me shut it off. I know I can hold it together. It's just that every second of every day, I want to hurt myself. I feel like I am watching the clock and waiting for the day when I can finally end this struggle.

I really wish I could talk to her. I feel weird about talking on the phone and I really wish I could ask her what she thought about it. I really wish I had someone to talk to about this because I know I am a wreck. I don't even feel *bad* right now. It gets much worse than this.