After pretending that everything was all right with my mother and sister, I left the house, went to a row of storage units, got a kitchen knife, and asked myself if I should do this, because I might reincarnate into a worse life. After that, I went inside of a storage unit, closed the door, and tried to slit my arms with the knife, only I did it ineffectively… almost everything that I did left shallow pokes and scratches that barely bled.

I’ve been reluctant to talk about the reason for this, not only because it happened months ago but also because it isn’t even a good reason to stay upset. Normal people would be severely depressed over losing a loved one, losing their career, suffering from an incapacitating disease, or facing a long prison sentence. Me? I was socially rejected and banned from somebody’s mediocre restaurant after I almost got her fired over a joke that I made… that’s not a good reason to stay upset; that’s just embarrassing. I should be laughing it off, especially since it’s been five months, but here I am dwelling on it repeatedly, to the point where I’m afraid to go outside again.

Even though the mental anguish is occasionally so intense that I get headaches, I am probably not going to actually try anything lethal. My medication is keeping me from reaching that point, and I don’t want my stepdad to feel guilty and shun his hobby (even if his politics are terrible) after learning that I fired one of his guns into myself.

All that I want to do is focus on my studies… I don’t want to repeatedly dwell on bullshit like this and take tranquilizers to calm myself down.