Numb. That’s how I feel. I think. Nothing seems to make me happy. Nor do I feel anything else. Nothing but tired. Kind of like I’ve been running a dozen mental marathons on virtually no sleep at all. So perhaps fatigued is a more fitting word?

Or perhaps not. I can’t decide. I haven’t been able to lately. No matter how obvious the choice, or trivial the problem. This evening I couldn’t even decide upon which kind of pasta to cook. Fusilli or rotini? I ended up eating almost a pound of “pasta Bolognese”. Without the pasta, that is. So, I guess I ate half a pound of Bolognese sauce on its own. Not that it bothered me. As of late, I haven’t been enjoying any kind of food. I simply devour it. Mindlessly.

I wish the mindlessness would be the theme of the night-time as well. However, it is not. I barely sleep. As soon as my head touches the pillow, my brain revs up its engines. Filling my mind with all sorts of non-existing problems, flaws and horrible scenarios of deceit and violence. Unfounded ideas of peoples resent for me and their plot to rid me of my happiness. Of which I have none.

None. No one. No one. I have no one. I have no one with whom I can talk freely about my feelings. No one to talk to when I get home from school. No one to tell about my day. No one to tell me that it’s going to be all right. No. One. At. All. My family and friends keep on telling me otherwise. I can’t convince myself to believe them, though.

I guess I just had to get this off of my chest. Or maybe I need to know that I’m not alone in this world of numbness. I don’t know… perhaps I’d hoped for someone to tell me it’s all going to be all right… or it might be that I’m just. feeling… Numb.