So either I reach out too much and I'm needy and push everyone away, or I don't reach out, and I'm alone, like I've always been.

Either I die on their terms, or I die on my own.

Either I push them away, or I never let them in.

Either I lose, or I lose.

Either I'm alone, or I'm alone.

Either I have people who take care of me, and resent me for it, or I have no one.

How the bloody heck am I supposed to choose?

How am I supposed to choose, because I can't keep leaning one way then the other.

I can't keep doing both and neither.

And I've never found that mythical middle ground.

I can't keep losing people.

And I can't keep being afraid of losing people.

I'm always afraid of people leaving.

Because that's what people do.

Nothing is forever.

Doesn't make it hurt less.

No matter what they say.

They always leave.

I have a friend who told me to call her whenever I feel bad, or am in a bad place

Or need her.

She knows I can't call people on the phone.

She says if I call, she won't answer.

She'll wait.

Then she'll call me back.

Because I can handle that better.

She says even if it's really late.

She doesn't want me to do somthing stupid like I did last week.

Walking around town alone during the night in the rain.

Not safe.

It was so sweet of her.

I felt lovely, knowing she cared.

But I know I'm never going to call.

Because I'd rather be alone.

Than have her leave.

So I guess there's my choice right there.

Same choice I always make.

In the end.

Because I know.

I'm always alone.

Always going to be alone.

Who do you call at four in the morning to say that you don't know how to survive the night?

Who do you call, who won't say

"Can this wait until morning?"

Who do you call who won't secretly resent you for waking them?

For not waiting until it's convenient?

For not being normal.

No one.

That's who.

You don't call anyone.

Because no one can be trusted to stay.

Possibly triggering

I've had a specific harm in mind for at least a week now. I won't describe it, (don't want to give anyone ideas) but suffice it to say that it would most likely be very painful (obviously), and debilitating, and would last for a while, and be a particularly stupid idea, as opposed to the usual brand of stupidity. Sorry. I hope that doesn't offend anyone. Well, my plan was to wait until after break, when I wouldn't have my family notice. (The goal was that no one would notice, but I particularly didn't want my family to.) I would like to point out: I knew this was a bad idea, I knew it was idiocy, but I wanted it anyway. I thought maybe if I put it off long enough, the urge would fade. (It's happened before.) Well, last night, I decided not to wait. I wanted to do it. I was going to go back to my room, and harm, and hang the consequences.

So, at about 3 in the morning, I went back to my dorm (It's finals week. Time is meaningless.) and when I walked out of the building I'd been in, it was raining. I had this sudden crazy idea. What if--instead of harming--I went for a walk? It wasn't as clear and simple and content as that sounds, it was much more desperate.

I went back to my room, dropped off most of my things, and by 3:20, I was gone.

Picture this: It's 3:30 a.m., raining reasonably well, dark (obviously), and I'm wandering the streets, alone. It tells you something that that was my better option. For an hour and a half, I walked. I walked by the train tracks, and thought about standing on them, but I didn't. I walked by two fairly decent overpasses, and thought about jumping off, but didn't. I walked through bad and good areas of town, through residential and commercial areas, and past a graveyard.

I stopped once, at the very beginning of the walk, for about five or ten minutes, and watched a train roll by. The sound of it forcing through the air thrummed against my ears, and I wanted to stay and watch more. But I kept going.

I didn't think much. At first, I was running. Two minutes after I left, the rain slowed and nearly stopped, and I begged, in a cracked voice, for it go on. I didn't know why, but I needed the rain. Later, I was in almost a trance. I liken it to a religious ecstasy, a sort of desperate blind following mixed with a not-quite-happiness. I don't know how to describe it.

I got back to my room at 4:50, an hour and a half after I left. I was dripping wet, could barely see through the rain on my glasses, and wasn't doing too well, healthwise to begin with, but I felt so much better mentally. I went to bed at 5:30, and I hadn't harmed.

I woke up today, and I still felt pretty good. For about 45 minutes. Then it occured to me that I could still do it. I left, I went and did things, and, perhaps an hour later, I found myself in a school bathroom with my weapon of choice, a cup of boilingly hot water.

I stood there, and thought about it and...I poured the water down the drain.

I don't know where I'm going with this. Usually when I write these notes, I know where I'll end up. Now I don't. I guess I'm fighting this off. Still. And I just wanted to write it all out. That's a terrible ending, but it's what I have.