2017-06-08

It's weird - I'm not really actively suicidal but, at the same time, I'm just not bothered about being alive.

I hate myself. As a person in general. I'm irritating and loud and boorish and just too 'there'. I wish I was more unobtrusive, and less obvious or in the way. If I were smaller, maybe I wouldn't be like this. Maybe if I lost some more weight then people would just stop noticing me. I'm drinking too much. I'm fat. I need to change this.

I just want to die, Kitty. I knew I was due another depression this summer but I don't want it to happen. And yet I'm already considering OD'ing. I just don't want to be here. I don't want to do this. I hate my life and I hate myself and sometimes - God help me - sometimes I even hate Dan.

I wish I could go back in time - back to before all of this, before Bristol, before university, before Watford, before Paris. Back to sixth form, when I was productive and successful and alone. I miss my girls and I miss my solitude.

I just - I don't know. I just want to die. I want it to stop. I want everything to stop.