Diagnosis

I think I never told you about my one and only session with a psychiatrist. Really weird person, she dressed up like a lawyer and behaved like a kindergarten teacher. Totally un-stereotype. Maybe that's what made me feel at ease, ironically.
I was there because Mom had found out I'd been making deep scratches with needles in my skin. I didn't like cutting. Too fast and painless. With a needle, you really have to carve your way through the tissue to make a proper mark. Much more effective. Haha, yeah, it sounds creepy, but that was the Me then. At school of course it would be the cat that scratched me or the pavement I had fallen on or something like that.
So anyway, the shrink told me that my hyperactive, child-like behavior was an instinctive compensation for the stress and negative feelings inside me. I didn't believe her. Now that I think about it, it could actually be true. I've stopped harming my body. I've stopped telling myself in the mirror every morning that I'm a worthless piece of shit. I've stopped loathing everyone around me, be it friends or family. But the sadness remains. The emptiness. It's all still inside me. It's just hidden very well.
I don't know if it's alright for me to write this all here. I don't really care. I just felt like saying it.

I was looking through my old diary from back in 2nd grade (of gymnasium, obviously), and I found this:

Ouch. I think I got something in my eye.
Oh, it's the wind, it's drying my eyes out.
No, it's nothing, I guess I rubbed my eyes too hard.
Excuses, excuses, excuses. People just love to believe that everything's okay. They refuse to see the truth. The truth that I'm hurting. That it's not the wind that makes my eyes water. It's not some stupid pollen that makes me cry. It's simply sadness. Something hateful. Something they don't want to see. So they don't. They believe a lie, knowing full well it's not the truth. Stupid, naive beings.


Heh, so Emo-like, I know. But that's me. Yay.

/P.

Think twice before believing someone that they're fine. Look at them properly. See them. Maybe in truth, they're vanishing slowly, sinking in their problems.
It's okay to look. It's okay to realize. It's okay to ask. It's okay to help.