"you can’t joke about that"

well no

you can’t

but I am allowed to find my own life funny

I am allowed to laugh at the things that make me cry all night and distract me from everything that happens during the day and fucking hell if you don’t laugh with me then fuck you ok because my perspective on that which I experience is not yours and you can’t take it from me

jfc I know you don’t want me to be miserable talking about how ungreat it is to feel like I’m filled with nails and shards of glass and how throughout Japanese today I kept thinking about how, if I want to carry through with what I want to do, I should throw myself from the top of staircase B in the library because everyone uses staircases A and D, and how I’m very certain that somebody is going to either stab me in the stomach with a cold blade or crack my skull open and how every second further I continue to live leaves a deeper scar in the world

I mean

if that makes you uncomfortable I want to talk about it in a less gloomy way and if that still makes you uncomfortable then I hope it makes you as uncomfortable as possible

so I’ve given away my paper guillotine

and for a moment I was all like “ok so this is a good step removing things that will harm me from my reach like I’m some goddamn toddler”

and like two seconds later my mind was all

LET’S THROW OURSELVES OFF BUILDINGS!!!!! WON’T THAT BE FUN?!?! like I keep thinking about how great it’ll be to have every bone in my body break and the great part is that at the end of it I’ll be dead like that’s a really finite death to have

I mean at the moment I’m in a fairly happy place

although I’m aware of all the time I’m wasting by eating and sleeping and showering I’m doing a lot of uni work and that helps drag me away from horrible thoughts

but I know I’ll be back there at some point

I know I won’t be able to escape

and what the Hell do I do to avoid throwing myself from the top of the Old Library building??????? I know I have friends to talk to but that’s like saying communism’s great it works in theory but people aren’t like that in practice you want them to love you but that will never be true because they only care about happy you they only care about the you that occasionally says funny things and tries not to offend them nobody cares about you I mean that’s why your closest friends try to bring you out of this state it’s because they want the you they like to return, it’s not because of any notion of caring

I think I’m supposed to take the fact that all my knives have disappeared and I can’t remove the blade from my paper guillotine as a sign from God that I should maybe keep living but I’m more preoccupied that one of the people I live with has stolen my knives

because of all this, I am not going to refrain from talking about how I’m feeling upon seeing my inconsiderate flatmate

every time she’s even within earshot I am going to tell her what I’m not even telling my therapist

oh great!!!! it’s a party!!!!!! this is going to be so much fun!!!!!! 

it would be douchey of me to make a noise complaint, so I am praying very sincerely that somebody else in our building, or halls security, decides they should do so instead

I plan on getting a loudspeaker, putting the volume as high as possible, and at 3am yelling into it “I THINK SOMEBODY’S GOING TO BREAK EVERY ONE OF MY BONES AND I CAN HEAR THEM SNAPPING”, “I THINK IT WOULD BE GREAT TO GRAB A SCALPEL AND MAKE A CLEAN INCISION FROM MY WRIST TO MY ARMPIT” and the all-time favourite “I AM CONSTANTLY TERRIFIED THAT SOMEBODY WILL STAB ME NO MATTER WHAT ENVIRONMENT I AM IN”

but no I am not going to do that because I am considerate human being, to some degree

my flatmate on the other hand, is an utter twat

if I find myself in a low point and burst into tears, which happens with embarrasingly high frequency, I have to stay silent

I cannot talk to the people I care most about it, I can’t even phone Samaritans because I’m terrified someone in my flat will hear me

but when it comes to music of questionable quality, my flatmates feel everyone has to hear it. New flatmate has decided she needs to put her speakers at full blast so while I am trying to stay calm and stay quiet and make sure nobody notices the sound of Blurred Lines permeates the walls as if they were paper and fills my rooms with noise that refuses to relent. I can make out every word, and have no idea how my flatmate is able to hear, given the fact that I, with a wall to protect me, still cannot hear myself think and all my thoughts have turned into images

fuck everyone