Previously hand-written on 5/11/17.
Maybe I’m like this because my mom did too much for me and now I’m inept.
Repeat: Everything is OK.
I’m high. It’s so nice. I focus on weird things, not the things that cause the anxiety.
I wish I was married and had someone to rely on. I guess I am dependent – or at least I want to be. If I had someone I wouldn’t worry as much.
I worry about money a lot. I think it consumes my thoughts more than I’ve realized until right now.
I can always fall back on killing myself. If it gets too much I can die and it will stop. I’d miss everyone.
Look at all those sentences beginning with the letter “I”. So selfish I am.
Constantly looking inward. That’s where the mess is.
Everything is moving slow, but my thoughts are moving fast.
Isn’t it amazing how I can take things that I think and make them appear on paper? That seems like such a big idea. People somehow are able to create a way for thoughts to be expressed and understood. I’d like to travel to a time when people couldn’t talk, to see what that was like. Totally different interactions.