This feeling makes me sweat and it makes my nose sting, and my eyes water. It makes me itch and it makes me sniffle. It makes me go completely quiet, like I am about to shut down. Except I am not. It’s the exact opposite. My blood is boiling and my hands are trembling, my bones and teeth are hurting.

This feeling gives me a sore throat and it floods my cheeks with tears. It puts that disgusting feeling in my stomach. It makes it spasm and it looks like a fish washed up on shore.

I just want to sleep. But it is only when you wake up that you realise you were sleeping. And how good it was to be asleep. Why can’t I stop crying?

Diary, I’m in love. Every time I think about him, I feel weak and hopeless. I know I won’t be able to shake off that feeling right away.

Yesterday was a great day. School was only till 1:10 and I saw my psychologist. She was sweeter than ever. I think this was the first time I left her office feeling significantly better than I had when I had walked in. She has a great soul.

When I hear the word “taboo”, I usually think of rape, incest, bestiality, etc. But I just now realised what’s more taboo than any of these topics. It’s thoughts. The morbid thoughts I have that petrify me. The scariest thought I have had recently has been texting the boy I hang out with: “If I ever kill myself, please don’t blame yourself. You had nothing to do with it. I just want you to know that.” The thing is I genuinely mean that. And what frightens me is the fact that I feel a need to tell him that. To warn him. It’s like I’ve lost control over myself.

If I told my mother about my depression and everything that’s on my mind, she’d say something along the lines of: “You’re anxious and depressed because you don’t have sex.” And that would just make me feel even worse for obvious reasons.

God, I feel so helpless. I’m so tired. I wish I didn’t go through these mood swings. It’s exhausting.

When I left my psychologist’s office, came home and had lunch, I spent the entire day getting ready for my date with him. I felt slightly anxious but excited. We were supposed to meet at 9 at this neat café and have some cocktails. Around 8 it started to rain. As he lives quite far away from the city centre and doesn’t have his drive’s licence yet and there was no one to give him a ride, he said I should come to his place. At that point I had been doing my makeup for about an hour. I hopped into the shower, put on a pullover and trousers, my Doc Marten’s and a coat. My Mum had agreed to drive me there (not without an argument though). Dad was to pick me up at 10:45

The atmosphere of the night was nice and I felt really comfortable. At his place he made each of us a glass of gin and tonic. I was more relaxed than I had expected I would be. We listened to music and I concluded kissing was wonderful. We talked about literature and I realised holding hands was amazing. We gossiped and I realised how I love it when we laugh together. The night was great. So great. Great.

My Dad picked me up and during the entire fifteen-minute ride home we exchanged about four sentences. It was awkward.

When I got home I took off my makeup, ate cookies in my bed and fell asleep shortly. I dreamt about him.

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