Right, so despite the fact that Mark isn't angry anymore, I still feel rather depressed. Sorry for making you put up with my moodiness, Rabe, but there are just times I can't be bothered to hide my feelings.
I wrote 4 pages in my diary last night. Four. That should give you some sort of idea what I was feeling as I very rarely write in my diary anymore.
GOD! Why do you have to be such a fuck-up? You never do anything right. Not one, single thing. Didn't really mean to eat much today. Ya, that lasted util a whole 2 pm. Great. Why do you have to eat all the time? You know your getting fat and ugly and no one will love you ever. Why, why bother with anything at all? What was the point of getting out of bed this morning? Really, it wasn't worth it. Not just to feel like crap all day and then come home and feel like crap some more and eat until you're sick. You make me sick.
He saw them, but he doesn't know. He believes the excuses I give him, just like everyone else. Just like everyone always has. You think that's where they're from? Do you really? Or do you just want to believe? Just want to believe I wouldn't do that? Well you're wrong. You all are. You don't know me, you never have, you never will. Not really. No one does. If they did, they wouldn't want to. Is that why I lay awake at night, waiting for my nightmares to come? Because they always do. When I sleep. Why am I never good enough? Why can't I ever be good enough? What's so wrong that I've become this? Why can't I stop it? Why can't I make myself stop? Why?
