Where is the Fucking "Stop" Button on this Thing?

No matter what I say, what I do, how far I run, I can't stop hurting. It never stops. I'm so tired of pretty much everything in my life. It's like it can't change fast enough. I'm so tired of hurting. I'm about to snap.

I don't even know what the fuck sparked this. I just went to the kitchen to throw away the Zaxby's box and grab the anti-virus software for my laptop, and wanted the world to stop. It's not that I want to kill myself, I just want everything to just stop for a minute and let me just be. Breathing hurts. My heart beating feels more like it bleeding out. Sometimes I wonder if I have a soul anymore, and if the answer is yes, what kind of sorry condition it might be in. My brain is about as fucked up as it can get. I'm constantly upset, pissed off, or just ambivalent. I want to care, but I can't. I don't think I have anything to care about.

Why couldn't I just keep acting happy? Acting like everything was at least tolerable? I don't even think I qualify for suicide. I have this sick sense that the only people that should commit suicide are those that had potential, that could make something of their lives, and went and fucked it up beyond all belief, past the point of return. I don't think I'm worth shit.

I almost can't wait for next week. I'll be away from the house, I could cut off anyone I wanted to, and hell, even those I don't want to. I could get drugs if I want, not eat, cut, burn, whatever I wanted. Whoops, no driving recklessly for me, cuz of no car, but I'm pretty damn sure I could make up for it.

I keep sitting here asking myself "What happened?" But you know what scares me more? That part of me doesn't care what happened. I almost feel like I'm asking myself that question just because I feel obliged to.

Who do I have left? Carrie's probably pissed at me for practically getting her grounded. Michael would just blow me off or try to get too close. And David's probably trying to make sure he doesn't get infections in any of his new piercings.

I don't mean that. Any of it. I know that if I really needed them, any of them would be here in a second. But I want to mean it. I don't want anybody to care about me because maybe that proves that I am worthless. That if I throw my life away it won't make a difference.

Maybe I'll just move to Mexico, change my name to Marilinda, become a prostitute, and traffick drugs.

Fuck it.