don't try and save me this time. god knows I need the practice.

There's been a lot on my mind lately.

I can't think. I can't think at all. Why can't I think? I need to think. I need to finish this history internal assessment.

It's three in the morning. I started surfing the web around one. I guess that was when the ritalin wore off. It's kind of a horrible feeling. I'm not in control. I'm never in control. I guess. I've always been so scared of being in control before now. Scared that I'd fuck things up. But, I don't know. My parents haven't been nagging me. I can see it in my mom's eyes, when she asks if I've been doing homework. Or I ask if she wants to do something, and I can tell she does, but she'd rather I do my work. So she leaves me alone. And I just surf the net.

I've been reading fan fiction. It's far too consuming. It swallows me whole, strangles me. It's so nice to drift off somewhere else, live in a different person's head or imagination. I guess I like fan fiction because I can make the characters do whatever I want, and I don't feel guilty. They're not my friends, or anything. They're not real people. And I guess I just don't have the energy to come up with my own characters. Just... putting somebody else's creation into a situation and trying to picture how he'd react. It's always 'him'. I don't seem to identify with girls as much, for some reason. Never have. I've never really felt like much of a girl. When I was little, I didn't want to. Now, I kind of do. It's ok, though, because whenever I do I can generally feel like it's working. Although, sometimes, it just gets hard. With some people, maybe, it's hard to feel I'm human, let alone female.

I should have started on this assignment long before now. It feels like I'm just drowning in myself again. It's rather depressing. It's the recognition that I don't care, not as much as I want to, but enough to let it hurt me, just a little. And maybe I'll wake up in the morning and it'll be better, but I'm not doing anything to change it. And I don't know if I'm going to get any F's. I don't. It's kind of... pitiful, that I don't know how I'm doing. I don't know anything anymore. Well, maybe I do...

The depression, I know it's not going to stop. Because it won't go away until I decide to do something about it. I've stopped caring to the point that I'm not sure if I'll make myself do anything about it. Nothing really seems to matter to me right now, and I think, I think, in just a little while it will matter and then I'll be sorry I let myself stay like this for so long.

Maybe that's what happened to Uncle Scott. He let himself slip, and slip, and slip, because he didn't really care about the consequences. And then he got drunk, and maybe he realized he did care. It's hard to care when your world is falling apart around you. But I think it's probably worse when you know that it's your fault. I don't think I'd ever do what he did, but, I might ruin my life in other ways. And maybe I think that it's ok now. But I guess it kind of isn't. It's just so hard.

You know, the whole escaping thing wouldn't be so much of a problem if I didn't keep getting jerked back into reality. It's hard to escape completely. But, do you know what really hurt? I was reading some Harry Potter story, and someone asked Harry a question, and he replied, "Well, that's a loaded question, isn't it?" I couldn't read it anymore. I don't know why it bothered me so much. But it did.

So, there's my excuse for not updating, maybe. I kind of don't care, and I kind of do, but mostly I just don't like thinking about it. Because I'm kind of scared of the part where I wake up and realize that I've just ruined my chances for everything I ever wanted.