(no subject)
So I'm home, and by the time I've completed this entry it'll be somewhere around 4 am.
I've fallen into my more recent pattern of home behaviour (using the term loosely seeing as I haven't been home since christmas break). This usually compiles of spending a loooong long time in the bath, burying myself in a book, doing the occasional session of typing up uni work, and generally moping around with the melancholy pjama clad nonchalance of your average mental patient. This weekends book is Russell Brand's booky wook, which caused me to indulge in a bit of philosophical introspection.
From reading and relating to this book I realized that I've never experienced security and stability in a relationship, even with my parents. Except for maybe with Dave but that was security in an especially fucked up and dependent and controlling kind of way, which caused me to do horrible things just to try and escape from it. I think maybe this is what is causing me to isolate myself further and further away from the people around me. It kinda feels like people can't be relied on, so what's the point? I've noticed that this kind of attitude is starting to have some really negative effects.
There have also been other influencing factors of late, which have caused me to think more seriously than ever before about maybe getting my head sorted out.
I mean things aren't bad, not really... I'm not hacking myself up (although part of my still wants to) and I'm not playing with death. But I don't feel right; I can't seem to shake the negativity off. Despite previous attempts to coerce me into going to the doctors I always said I'd refuse to medicate myself as long as I felt that my reasons for being angry or upset were atleast partly justified, and they always have been, and definitely still are. But the last downer still hasn't shifted and I don't like feeling like this, and I have exams soon and I can't afford to fuck them up.