Looking back

The final entry to my first (and maybe only) real journal [12/2002-04/2005]

04/13/05

So this is the end. My only friend, the end.
I wonder what I'm going to do. How I'm going to change after I get off of these antidepressants. I wonder how I'm going to cope, what I'm going to see, whether my near-psychopathic images of violence will go away by then. And what will happen in my search, my continual search, for an intellectual partner or two, and how adolescence is going to end up.
I recently turned 15, by the way. This has been with me a long time.
I wonder when I'm going to stop getting headaches because I feel threatened that I don't know enough. Headaches, insecurities that began with . I wonder when I can really face & be myself. Fully, truly.
The world is composed of shifting, blurring, pulsing grey-lavender spheres, phases that intersect, move, merge, grow, disappear. I flow through these phases in my invisible electrical pulse, strong, emitting a signal, going deathward, as all plots do.
Who will I merge with one day? Where? When? When can I finally, finally, after all this trial and turmoil, find a few people that I can face this world with? [...]
"I'm ready, ready, ready, ready, ready," I answer. [...]
And in a gorgeous explosion of emotion, reason, and self-knowledge, my plot will move deathward.
Will I be me, by then?

How strangely lucid and articulate. I can answer her questions now.

Today I have none of that new excitement. I feel grey, as if I have emptied out my soul and expect Pennsylvania to fill it back up again.