my life has been reduced to painting my nails and telling my parents i'm okay and overeating. i can't write anymore. i can't answer e-mails anymore. i can't function. all i can do is stay home all day and watch Lifetime movies on tv. i still hear voices at night. they're laughing at me, laughing at how pathetic i am.

i cannot cry, i can't pity myself, all i can do is listen quietly to the voices that spin and spin in my tired head, urging me to seek the final quiet: death. but i doubt i'll give in. i'm too much of a coward to commit suicide. ten years in a Christian household is enough to instill the fear of hell in me. which is sad, but unavoidable.

i feel helpless and miserable, but at the same time, oddly content. damn anti-depressants. i don't know what to make of anything. but i know that i'm going to crack soon. maybe sooner than i think.