Some people are yuck as fuck.

So she started the lecture and I was so uncomfortable the entire time because I HATE thinking about veins and arteries and capillaries and blood, actual blood in my body. It makes me physically weak, anxious, and sick. I started to sweat in my seat and I could hardly hold my pencil to fill in the notes we had, and it hurt to be in that classroom. Plus the girl behind me constantly breathes from her mouth very deeply and it goes onto my neck. Now I'm not the most germaphobic person, but she was sick like, last week and was breathing on me, and I was surrounded with anxiety and my hands were trembling. I'm not going to be at school next thursday when we dissect lamb hearts. It's not the fact I can't take a dissection, it's just that plus my damn teacher and the blood and everything... it's too much. I'll talk to the school psychologist to try and see if she could pull me out of it.

Also I hate November and December. I love winter, I love those months because it's the one time of year in this stupid place in California where it's rainy and cold and bearable for once, but it hurts, it all hurts.

I can't stop getting flashbacks to last year, and the year before that. I keep thinking about things that hurt, things I've buried, things I thought I forgot. I can't seem to forget it and this doesn't help one bit. 

I keep thinking about him. About how two years changes someone. Yeah it does, but I keep thinking: what happened? What went wrong? Why? Why can't I be happy? Why is he getting the world on a plate and I'm getting nothing? Why can't I stop this? Why? For fuck's sake why?

It hurts, it hurts all over. I slumped back into some depressive spiral and all I want right now is to go to school and not talk to anyone at all because I'm worried about letting anyone in again. There's nothing left to hide, I don't have that anymore. I'm losing myself again, and I can't control it. I can't stop wanting to be alone. I feel like if I'm with anyone I'll run out of things to say and something will just bend, snap, and break inside of me and things will come rushing out.

I can't rely on others again, last time it hurt too much to bear, it dragged my death out, it dragged my mind along pavement and bricks. My brain matter was graffiti-ed against an alley wall in the dark and somehow I'm still alive.

It hurts, it all hurts. I want to cut and be alone. I want to talk to him and by doing so, hurt myself. I want to prod him, provoke him. I want him to hurt me in the worst ways so maybe my cutting and relapse would have a good excuse.