Everything feels unreal. Like I'm dreaming, like my whole life is a dream. Like my nightmares are real. Chased through a crowd, alone, isolated, afraid.
I woke up at nine and now it's past four and I can't make my brain work. It's like that little cup held my life force and when it broke I lost all sense of meaning.
Or, when I woke up. It just made it more obvious. I can't even throw away the peices. I can't think. My head hurts and I'm hungry and I can't go out into the kitchen and I can't do anything. I feel like I did before I committed myself. Except this time I'm not suicidal I guess.
I just wish this emptiness was not inside me. This growing vacuum. Everthing is wrong. I am a horrible person. I'm a burden.
I know I felt happy a couple of hours ago but I don't remember feeling that. I know I was talking to a friend about it, but maybe it was a lie? I wrote to my friend that I felt happy about a thing but I can't remember feeling happy.
I can't remember what happy feels like at all right now. I'm empty. I hate myself.