Goo Goo Dolls song, Give A Little Bit. It makes me feel so happy.

Man, this is so weird! I only just realized this like, three days ago, and it's been haunting me ever since. Is this one of things I need to be talking about to exorcise? I really hope not, 'cuz uh, it's kinda... wow. Just weird.

I'm actually very, very happy. o__o I can't think of a way to say this without it sounding lame. It's just, wow. I'm not insanely low then high for a minute. I'm not even insanely low. Even in my non-fakehigh moods I'm just normal. Like, stable. It's the kinda mood where it can rain and it'll be like, oh, okay, it's raining, I think I'm gonna sing a little now, as opposed to my previous, "It's raining. Why can't it be a fucking storm? [insert wild and crazy thoughts of getting struck by lightning/slipping and smashing my head on the pavement here]".

It just occurred to me... I'm not suicidal anymore. God, I was suicidal. I didn't even realize it when I was! I can still remember it though: constant thoughts of death, wishing there was an easy way out, wanting to just cut and let me be over and done with. It seems so far away. Wow. How did I let myself get in that deep? I always thought I'd be one of those people who'd go running for help soon as I ever got that bad, but hey, there ya go. I really don't know myself. Funny how that used to be such a big issue for me. Now it's just like, oh well, hey stranger, you're looking mighty ugly today. Then I'd just wink back and go, "Not so hot yourself, kid," and... I dunno. Not be unhappy.

It's even weirder when you hear all these stories about people who 'got help' and pulled themselves out. People who went to their friends, or family or school counsellors or whatever. Me, I had too much fear. Too much pride. I pretty much did it myself... me and this journal here. If absolute truth be told, I'm not proud of it. It's... well, embarassing. It makes me wonder. Was I even really depressed? Looking back on it now I'd say, yeah, yes I was. I'd never been so low for such a long time in my life. But if I could pull myself together and will myself better, then... was I just making a big show of myself? Why would I do that? Do I take some sort of masochistic pleasure in making myself upset?

... You know the scary thing about that? I think that yeah, yes I do. I love crying. When I'm by myself, I mean. I love feeling infinitely sad and like my heart's about to puncture and explode and like I'm choking and the cool trickle of tears sliding down my face. I-- heh, this is gonna sound so silly, but I used to fantasize dying when I was younger. When I was miserable with Carol. Just to make myself cry, because I'd think that my parents wouldn't care. I'd fantasize that my parents died so I could make myself cry. When I got older and Carol got fired, these changed to just me berating myself nightly. Stupid, useless, fat, anti-social (I realize now that that is totally the wrong word for it), anything to, y'know, get that tugging feeling.

I dunno. I'm just really weirded out right now. Shit. Suicidal. Shoot me, I'm naive, I never thought it'd happen to me. It just seems so freaky, 'cuz now I can't make myself upset even if I bust a freakin' gut trying.

I'm sorry. I must sound really stupid and braggy. I don't mean to. Serious. May God strike me down on my little blaspheming atheist head if I lie. It's just. Weird.