damik's Diaryland Diary

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Come Spring, a Young Girls Fancy Turns to Thoughts of Suicide

I'm growing more and more depressed as the weeks go by. I'm not sure what it is, but I feel this helpless sliding in to the awaiting abyss. It's unavoidable; it's inescapable, like trying to change the course of a speeding freight train. It just can't be done.
I feel all alone.
I hate feeling like I don't matter. I want to, but it's not possible. Dr. Tom and I were discussing what a contradiction I am. How I can work in the field of caring for people, how I can dedicate my time to caring for other people, and yet I don't feel like I deserve being cared for in return.
How can I explain it to him though? How can I tell someone that there is no good in me. I don't deserve being cared for because there isn't anything in me worth caring about.
My thoughts travel to the blade in my purse. Of crouching in the bathroom, tears streaming down my cheeks, blood streaming down my arm.
My mind drifts to the phone book, wondering if I should price the helium tank. There are many party suppliers here in Utah, just how much would it cost to kill myself.
I've taken to banging my wrist. As unconsciously as I tap my toes, or twirl my hair, I bang my wrist on hard surfaces. I'm not sure, really when I begin this one, but just resting it on the armrest hurts now. Funny resting it hurts, but banging it repeatedly doesn't, I barely even notice, untill some one tells me to stop, it's getting annoying.
Like all things, this too shall pass. I hope.

11:42 p.m. - 03-12-02
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