I have an issue. I know I am %#@&#! up I am not sure if I am more %#@&#! up than the average "normal" person, possibly not, but I beleive I am far more self aware than the average person. I know I will probably seriously hurt everyone I am hiding from sooner or later, but at the same time I don't care, I think its my life and if I want to be self destructive and waste it and %#@&#! up and make my self miserable its my right to do it.
I know the me of the future may not be so pleased with my chosen aesthetic as the me of the present. But again, she is not me and I don't care. If she doesn't like it she can change it.
All the while I am terrified of what I am doing to myself, and yet... I thrive on that fear, I get this huge ongoing adrenaline rush off it, and its uncomfortable, but at the same time, it makes me feel powerful and out of control (in a good way) all at once.
I take drugs. Not always. I go on drug binges from time to time, then spend many months without even drinking. When I take drugs I fantasise about how %#@&#! up they will make me in the long run, sometimes its not at the forefront of my mind, sometimes I dont realise thats why I want to do them, but yeh. I envision myself spiraling downwards, getting hooked on heroin, losing everything but being wrapped up in an opiate glow, yet ever deeply ashamed of what I had done, what I made myself need. Knowing full well I always knew it would happen.
When I am not taking drugs I often go for long periods without sleep. I get a high off it, it makes me hyper and too clouded in my head to care about anything much at the same time. Then other times it makes me miserable, paranoid and occasionally I hallucinate and start to take little ideas I am somewhat obsessed by seriously.
I keep wanting to diet, I don't really give a %#@&#! how I look, I know what I want. I want to waste away, its a image, my head likes it too much to let go so she suggests to me to not eat quite a lot. But I am a very impulsive, indulgent person so usually I dont get anywhere with it. Ocassionally for a few months at a time I went on yo-yo diet cycles, my brain has recently got back in that obsess about dieting mindset.
I am generally bored, so I suggest to myself to do something productive, like homework or socialising or something, and then I resent myself so much. I dont want to be productive. I want to destroy everything. I can't get over it. I want to destroy, %#@&#! up, damage, everything, I don't want it dead and gone. I want it qivvering on the floor, begging for mercy as I drive the knife further into its sensitised skin. I feel so much anger its unbeliveable but I have nowhere to direct it really. Theres nothing outside myself I even notice really, unless its right in my face right now, but I adore myself so I cannot direct all this hate at her, so then it builds up until all I want to do is destroy everything, I want to create suffering, but I can't do it to others because then I would be forced to feel guilt, which I seem to expreience to an excessive amount. So I try to do it to myself, but there's still a part of me that thinks, no, I am not %#@&#! up, I am enlightened, I am training myself to ascention, I am nearly god, I can achive everything all at once.
Which is absurd but it keeps coming back to me.
Every project I start, usually with grand and excessive enthusiasm, I neglet within a day or two never to return to it. I have in a sense resigned myself to never achiving anything that cannot be done in the course of one night. Unfortunatly my attention span seems to be getting shorter with each year and these days I often give up on something within a few hours, to half an hour even.
I isolate myself from others, I used to go out and meet people a lot, but I became disillusioned with them and nowadays its very rare that I speak to anyone apart from my family and the girl who sits next to me in class. This has been going on for about a year now I have had a meaningful conversation with next to noone, most of the time I feel content in that. Maybe slight pangs of lonelyness attack me but for the most I feel I dont need others. That I can subsist entirely on my own in the world. I feel that most social interactions are fake anyway and I would rather not get involved. But at the same time, I realise, and quite deeply and painfully, sometimes, that I need other people, just like every other human alive needs other people, but its just that there is no human I have come across I feel I exist with. In the presence of others I feel myself as non-existant, wheras alone I exist. And its the overwhelmingness of the feeling of non-existance that means I dont really seek out the company of others, it makes me feel very icky, although sometimes it can be almost beautiful.
I have spent the majority of my adolescence (I am 18 now) waiting for the anihilation I was sure was about to happen. I have felt all through as though I was going crazy, that I was going to lose everything and I must accept that, and then die a painful, violent death.
And it never happened. And it overwhelms me again and again that feeling, and yet, despite my careful, dedicated preparations for the end, it never came. I live on, not crazy, not broken, not writhing in agony on the floor screaming and crying and babbling incoherantly as I die.
Nope. And it ****s me up. That it never happens. That I am still just me, just normal, just mediocre. Just dying a slower kind of death with no real beauty to it and no real direction to follow.
But then I come up with goals, plans, things to do, places to see, desires, but it always comes back to "I don't want that. I want to drip like viscous black oil, to the lowest low attainable by human kind".
I often think about killing people, that it would force me to %#@&#! up if I killed someone. But I am too afraid.
Still sometimes I think that I should force myself to push through that fear and do it anyway. I think the same about my fear of suicide. It seems almost insinceer to think so much about death and not be the cause of it.
I guess the sum total of this is that my only real desires, beyond satifiying my basic human drives on an impulsive level, is to damage. I am sure thats not right, though I am sure its common.
I feel both as though there is no way out, that I don't want out, that I desperately want out, that if I got out I would cease to exist, and just generally ...afraid, of what is to come, good and bad. I know anxiety is the natural state of being for humankind though.

Its basically this, I have an image in my head, and its the most beautiful addicting image you could ever imagine, surpassing drugs of any kind, and it depicts the most horrific suffering, and I can't but stare and stare at it. Every minuite I stare at this amazing image I have, and I need to create it. And writing doesn't cut it, it doesn't make it real. And painting doesn't cut it either, nor film nor any other creative medium. The only thing that is good enough is if I make it utterly real, if I craft my life into that image.
And at the same time, I feel like I am stuck in a dream, that I am not awake, that this world is not real, and if I did hit the depths I yearn for it would still not be real enough for me.

...and there's nothing I can do about any of this because I don't even know if I want to change. I'd pop a valium if I had one to kill the anxiety, but change it all, change my entire ...everything... I don't know how to want anything else. All I want is destruction.