Hah! Never finished my last entry. I don't think I ever will.

In this diary alone, do you think there is enough material for a novel? There's this great american novel race or something where all these writers race to write a novel in ONE MONTH. I think maybe over the summer I'm going to try that. It sounds like fun. Minell be total bullshit but what the hey. Apparently a novel is 500,000 words. That's surprising because 500,000 doesn't seem like that much. Or maybe I'm just insane.

I've already started writing novels in my head before I go to sleep. I lie down and close my eyes and begin my novel and it puts me to sleep pretty quickly. What a novel technique. Unfortunately it seems to do nothing for my recent torrent of nightmares and freakish dreams. one a night. Every night. At least one, last night two. This can't be good for my health. Even at rest, I'm stressing out.

I'm beginning to think maybe it's the clutter in my room that's making me so depressed, so I tried cleaning a little today but that made me more depressed and tired on top of it. I used to turn on music and jiggle and dance when I cleaned but I've quit singing and dancing to myself. It makes me feel dumb.

More and more nowadays I think I'm turning into an embittered old woman. I wish I could retain some form of innocence but I've even stopped wearing my kiddie superhero underpants. At least I still call them "underpants."

When I start saying "panties," kill me.

Anyway, it really is time to clean up my life. I've slipped into a terrible depression. Directions:
1) humble up.
2) refrain from television. 2 shows a week, maybe the designer one and then scrubs and that's it. In its place, I must read literature.
3) speak to more people and get them to take you out (hard so I won't make this a resolution)
4) clean up room
5) learn to cook
6) be nice to greg
7) don't ever call greg
8) eat sweets
9) drink more water
10) have more vitamins
11) paint room soothing color
12) work hard on being beautiful

I think that's all for now. I'm not really sure what to do though. Every night I feel suicidal. When I first got with Greg, and maybe sophomore year and even junior year I would have considered myself a happy person.

I would have said, "I like me." But now, I can't. I've humbled up. I've had too much time to sit on my ass and think about my faults and it has come to my attention that I am a terrible person. I'm selfish, loud, commandeering. I am overly sensitive, I lose my temper too fast. I am emotional and insane. What is wrong with me? Sophomore year I was poisitively ice cold. Nothing hit me. I was completely numb. Ever since I've gotten a relationship I've morphed into this overly-emotional mess, maybe to make up for my hiatus. I am sloppy. I am pimply. I am unnattractive. I am messy. I am disorganized. I am not smart. I am not polite. I am not kind. I have terrible skin and a terrible body shape. I am not athletic. I cannot draw. I cannot write. I am LAZY. I complain too much. I judge too much.

I hate how lazy I am. Yet I ca'nt seem to cure it. I will sit around on mya ss absolutely hating myself for not getting up and working, but I'll never get up and work. I'll just waste away an entire 14 hours on my ass hating myself. What the fuck is that?

I loathe myself and I take it out on others. I try to cling to Kathy and Greg and I whine to them about my stupid problems and I try to win pity for them so they won't leave me. I hate myself so I think that they must hate me too and no amount of cajoling and comforting will suffice.

What brought this on? What is different now than was before? Why the sudden surge of unhappiness?

I think I really do have some sort of chronic depression and I really should be put on some sort of meds. If only I didn't believe in depression or meds. Gawd.

I can't help thinking that I'm completely insignificant to this world. I rack up a $500 electric bill and I use tons of gas in my diesel car and I steal from stores. I am nothing but a burden on society. I have no purpose on this earth. If I left there would be no large difference. Few would mourn me. All live s would remian untouched. I should kill myself and save the world from gross overpopulation. I think perhaps that's the ultimate environmentalist action. Killing yourself so there's one less person to feel obligated to kill whales for.

I say it and I say it and I say it, so much that it sounds so stupid and insincere and of course it's cliche, but believe me when I say I mean every word of it; that I hate myself and want to die.