Knife or scissors. Choose.

I'm sort of hungry. It's a strange feeling.

The top of my mouth, just behind my front teeth, still feels sort of like an acid burn. I thought to myself, It's summer! Why don't I just take off my socks and walk around in sandals all the time? And then, an hour later, I remembered. I now have three huge blisters on my feet. Which I picked at. They were bothering me. And then I cut the flaps of skin off. So now they're all raw and I've taken to walking around on my toes. The cuts on my hand and shoulder seriously don't hurt at all. But then, they're not deep. I'm no fanatic. It's sort of annoying when the skin folds, though.

School starts again on Wednesday. I can't say I'm particularly looking forward to it. And it's at AY, of all places. This will be my first ever taste of high school in the real world. It's... frightening, in a way. I'm too used to band geeks.

My internets have been down for ages. It keeps telling me about the DNS cache. I don't know why it does it, I don't know what the DNS cache is, I can't even pronounce it. I am so sick of this DNS whatsit. So, so sick.

It's raining slightly. There's a bird chirping somewhere in the distance.

I've been getting more sleep than ever... and yet I'm always so tired. Inside and out. So, so tired.

Last night, I did not have an epiphany. More of an anti-epiphany. What I call a "who am I kidding" moment. In church, of all things. Someone had brought in a Nester. I couldn't tell exactly who, but I could see its spidery limbs and just sense it, like one can sense when something is rotting. I admit it, I was scared of it. As the night wore on it grew worse and worse, and fear mixed with anger; that someone had dared to bring a Nester in here! To this holy place! I was aware on some level that they probably didn't know they had it, and in fact I was the only one who felt anything at all, but I was scared. I panicked. Literally. I had a panic attack right there. I ran outside, gasping for breath, and curled in the grass beneath a tree, shaking. I stayed there for awhile. Then bugs started dive-bombing me. Big ones, around the size of beans. I must have had four or five of them crawling over me at one point. In some ways that helped. They weren't hurting me, and it was kind of comforting. Perhaps because of that, this panic attack wasn't nearly as bad as the others. I got better quickly and went back inside not long after. One bug followed me and I had to take it back outside to the other bugs. They seem to like me.
Anyway. Maybe it was while Mike was talking about how we influence others, or during the attack, or sometime after when I was sitting alone staring at the ceiling, but I realized: Who am I kidding. It wasn't a question. I'm clearly incapable of caring for a girlfriend. I'm not going to be a success in the world because I'm different and we all know it. I lack the social skills needed to keep friends. I try to be religious but fail, every single time. I like to think I'm something special but I'm probably just crazy, or more likely have too much imagination. That's what everyone wants me to think, anyway. I don't really have any sense of my own emotions. And I'm so wrapped up in my own deluded self-pity that it's a wonder I can see anything in the real world at all any more. Hope? Who am I kidding.
And yet, you ask, if you've really lost hope, then why don't you lose the girl, drop out of school, get as much sex and drugs as possible, abuse everyone, and/or just kill yourself right now, destroying your life and the lives of those around you in search of cyanide and happiness? And I don't really have an answer to that. I can only say that that's not the kind of person I am. But if I really am, deep down, a good person... then why must I hurt myself so? And again, I don't really have an answer.
Hope? I wonder.