24/03/18

Dear Diary,

So… I did forget yesterday. I’m still working on developing a habit so I don’t forget again. I showed this to my psychologist. She seemed really happy that I took her suggestion to heart but she tried to read what I had written. I snatched it back. Like I said last time. This diary is private, it’s none of her business what I write in here.

This is supposed to be the part where I write about my feelings but I don’t know… I’m not really feeling anything right now. Just… apathy… numbness. There are probably a million things you could call it, but I don’t think it’s a good thing. I can’t stop it, it just happens sometimes. When it does, I just can’t feel. It’s strange but also kind of nice. But not when I have to fake my emotions in order to not make my parents worry about me. They do that enough already without me adding to their stress.

I suppose that in a twisted, round a bout way, talking about how I’m not feeling anything is somehow talking about my feelings. It’s a strange way to think about it.

I honestly don’t know why I’m still writing in this thing. After last appointment, my psychologist said that she wouldn’t ask about the diary again. I'm guessing that means that she won’t ask to see it again. That means I don’t need to write in it anymore. But for some reason, I still am…

Last time helped. I suppose that’s why I’m continuing to write in this thing. It’s nice to be able to let out all my thoughts and feelings without feeling like anyone is judging me. It’s kind of like the poetry… Speaking of which, I wrote another one the other day but seeing as I forgot to do an entry, I might as well put it here.

The chill is there,


Creeping up,


Nipping at my toes.

I can feel it,


It's always there,


Always lurking behind me,


Ready to pounce.

With the cold,


Comes the numbness.


I can feel nothing else,

Just the numbness.

It takes over me,


Strips me of feelings,


Emotions,


Life.

I am a walking husk,


That is what is it like.


A husk of who I used to be.


That is me now.


I can no longer remember that person,


But I can feel the echo,


The echo of something that used to be.

That is here no longer.

As I lie there,


The numbness starts to fade.

The chill comes back,


It nips at my fingertips,


Feeling it's way up my legs,


I hate it.

But at least it is something.

It will not be long until the numbness comes back,


It never is,


But I relish in the few moments of clarity.

I welcome any chance to feel again,


To get a resemblance of who I used to be.

Even though I loathe the coldness,


Anything is better is better than the numbness,


Better than the emptiness that has taken over my life.

Eh… It’s okay, I suppose. Could be better.

….Why are all my poems so depressing? I’ve written more than the two I’ve written in this book and they are all depressing. I don’t know why! I think that next time, I’m going to try and write something nicer. Maybe not happy, but nicer. Less depressing.

I need to go, I’ve got homework to do. I might have said this before, but I hate English, I really do. It’s the worst subject invented I swear. I get it has uses and everything, but why? Why must they make it so damn hard?

Okay, enough of my ranting, this is a diary not a rant book. Hopefully, I’ll remember tomorrow, if not… Well, I guess I’ll find this thing eventually.

Alex