Can't sleep= cockroaches will eat my face

Hey,

So I found an insect in my room that may or may not have been a cockroach. I squashed it (I felt terrible! But what else could I do?). Now I cannot sleep because I read somewhere that cockroaches can feed at night on the remnants of food found on SLEEPING PEOPLES FACES!

So anyways, after compulsively cleaning for about an hour I am writing to you all. Well, not exactly. I wrote this a couple days ago. It was the first time since this blogs creation that I was too embarrassed to post the entry. This is an edited version.

I cant blog…for some reason tonight the ability to expose my innermost thoughts and feelings seems to have disappeared. I can’t really do thought records that totally encompass what I think and feel, so I am let to express myself in a manner that’s half a journal entry and half a letter to myself and Toar when I’m sitting in her office dumbfounded when she asks how I’ve been doing.

The elation I experienced after my doctors’ appointment dwindled today and now it’s back to this. I’m starting to wonder more if I’m just crazy- mood swings? How can I have mood swings? Fuck I don’t want a diagnosis of bipolar disorder too.

Ahh, diagnoses. Why on earth I thought it would be a good idea to look for a message board support group for people with avoidant personality disorder baffles me. I’ve been told by so many people not to identify with the diagnosis. Am I just supposed to ignore it?

Anyways, I looked online and read these peoples experiences. So many of them I related to. There was the feeling like I am on the outside of the human race and that there is something deep within me that makes me unwilling or unable to properly interact socially. Wanting to love and be loved so badly but being so scared to even try. Not even knowing exactly what it is I was scared of. The idea that I must learn how to do everything on my own because I cannot rely on anybody else to help me, as I am not worth the time or effort.

I started writing this because I caught thoughts of suicide going through my head which made the imaginary alarm bells ring. I thought about how I wanted to die young so I won’t get older and die pathetic and alone. I thought about how much I wished that this could happen without hurting anybody else. Even though the thought of people I love grieving forces me to remind myself that “suicide is not an option”, it also makes me feel really trapped.

I just want this to be over. I’m so tired of it. Someone who spent this long recovering and has had this many opportunities to get better I should have done it by now. When can I just give up? They let people with other illnesses do so….

This is so narcissistic and ridiculous. I seem so immature and melodramatic.

No more of this, this will be enough stupid, trivial problems to fill 50 minutes.

Back to today:

Please do not fear guys, Toar has read this and I am sure that I feel stable enough to not act on these thoughts. I am just scared (of more than roaches) and frustrated.

Good night.

Peace, Love and Veggies,

Alex