Dearest,
I'm going crazy. The way I act, feel and think is creating this struggle inside me. I feel awkward socially and I seem to be unable to attract others. I don't understand why, I can't seem to figure it out. Someone has told me once that I was different, but yet another person has told me the same. So, there must be something wrong with me, right? Currently, I just have no enthusiasm. I don't want to be in touch with people, I don't want to look at or taste food, and I do not want to move my body. However, all these things are what creates a sense of excitement within our lives. I want to be able to enjoy myself, you know? I want to feel what I felt before. Despite that, I feel disgusted with myself and I wish I could die. Cliche, I know but it's not because of the depressed thoughts that haunt my mind. It is merely the fact that I cannot look at myself anymore. The things I do, I want to continue to do them, but my body is showing me it cannot handle it anymore. Even though my body is getting larger on the outside, inside my body is eating itself. Whether it's the environment in which I live, loneliness, or people, I cannot seem to find the answer. I am sure this is why I am struggling. Either way, I am not content with the way I am. I feel like this will continue to grow worse, which is why I am writing to you. I wish you were here with me, beside me. I miss the thoughts we had, what we shared. I also miss the release that was presented to me. Everyday, I'm just locked inside my body, but I was presented with a release that helped me escape. Here, I have no way of relieving myself.
As a result, I have come up with a plan. I hope you realize this is not a good plan at all but I must do it. I don't even understand why I am telling you this, but I hope that I don't survive because survival is draining every single inch of my being out of me. I am slowly becoming nothing and I am afraid of what that nothing will become. What am I even saying? Lately, I have no idea what my thoughts are. At first, they are locked in tiny boxes and when one box is opened, they rush out. I try and catch them, but it's too difficult. Then, I continue to open more and more boxes, spilling more dangerous thoughts out onto the ground. I'm being flooded.. I can't breath.. I'm drowning in my own mind. The thought of drowning scares me, but I cannot help the water that is being released into the emptiness. I think drowning is the worse way to die, but I think about death every night before I sleep.
