Diary Entry 6: Wistful

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Well, it’s almost 10pm at night, and I am sitting in front of the laptop, by myself, feeling quite lonely and depressed, as I usually do. And, as usual, these posts are meant to make you feel like you are having a conversation with me, an ordinary young woman who feels herself to be quite insignificant a lot of the time. Let’s see. What is there to say? Well, I thought I would be bored until July, which is when my Age Care course starts, but it turns out I will be joining a Retail course on the 10th of April, something that will keep me occupied for hopefully some time, which is good. Lately, I have also been reading a good deal of the Harry Potter series, because whenever I get depressed, I get this urge to escape into another world, and Harry Potter is one of the best, most well-written magical fictional worlds that exists. I’ve also been trying very hard not to have flashbacks about this young man I used to like. I don’t think he ever liked me–in fact, I have a feeling he thought me quite insane and obsessive, the details of which I would rather not recount—but in typical INFP fashion I admired him from afar, and he still lives in my heart, quite as strong as ever, even though it has been more than a couple of years since I have seen him.
Hm. Everything I write in this post will undoubtedly make you feel much better about your own life. I was very tempted to overdose on pills today because I simply saw no future for myself. I am going to eventually train to be a nurse, but I hardly–well, I’m just not sure if I have the right personality for it, if I’m really even cut out for the job. More than twenty times today I have either lain down on the bed or the floor, praying to God for things to change or wishing that I had never been born. I was bored a lot of the time as well, because there are still ten days—ten miserable days—until my retail course starts and I can begin getting out of the house and doing things. i keep on having this secret feeling that if I just hold on for long enough, if I just keep living, eventually, something good is going to happen and my entire life will turn around. But nothing has happened, and I am beginning to grow afraid nothing ever will, until the day I die. I feel incomplete. I feel like my entire life I have been holding my breath, waiting for something to happen, and—well, I’m still holding it, and probably will do is until my deathbed. I mean, what I want to know is, is this all there is? I feel as though there should be something more to life. I want shooting stars and meeting handsome strangers in midnight cafes and chocolate birds that really fly. I don’t know if I’m making much sense. it’s just that reality is so intolerably dull, and I yearn for some escape from it, I really do.
The truth is, I hate life on planet Earth. One of the happiest times of my life was when I had a psychotic episode, and believed I was an angel on a mission for God, because then, magic, even though it was all inside my head, for a brief moment, was real and true, and I felt at home. I’m not sure how much more of reality I can take, or how many more times I can, inside my head, bang my head repeatedly against the wall in exasperation. I just wish I could ride on a Ferris Wheel at sunset for all eternity–though I suppose even that would get boring after a while—rather than spend my days in complete boredom living an average, day-to-day life. it’s why I feel suicidal, really; I am someone who hungers for novelty and variety, and this world can only show so many faces. I am exhausted by the dullness of life. As an INFP, I do believe I have lost my sense of child-like wonder and delight. Nothing is delightful or wonderful anymore, not even books; and I am left sitting by myself in the dark, alone and with empty hands, praying for a miracle that never comes.

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