Shaking

It was stupid to think that I was getting better. I'm not.
And I know that pushing my feelings away isn't going to help on the long run, but it helped yesterday.  And the day before...
Today a bomb was dropped in my front yard. It doesn't have to be a bad thing. But it was enough.
Now I'm a mess — I was a human mess before but I don't think I'm even human any more, am I? — and writing gets harder with these shaking hands.
But hey, on the bright side, I did my homework the proper way for the first time in months, it would be great if I was able to keep doing it.
And I didn't take the pill. Lots of reasons, I don't have many and I don't want to waste it. I don't wanna fall asleep yet. I may need it later tonight if things get worse. I'm trying to defeat this by myself. I don't wanna be judged. I don't want to ask for more if I take all of them. I really think I will need it later tonight.
I shouldn't be writing this. My head feels heavy and thick, like my brain has turned into butter, and now I'm just a sounding board for the music I'm not even listening to. I feel like I can't even lift my own hands, like it's taking all my strength just to write.
I know part of me is able to act and talk — almost — like nothing's going on. But the inside me is burning and confused and feeling every part of her body being torn apart.
I really wanna go to sleep.

April ended

I'm sorry. I just had to do this and I couldn't.

So I feel like a disappointment, getting used to it. 

Quarantine is being... I don't really have words. 

I'm just trying to repress my feelings all the time. And it's working.

I know it's probably for the worse, but I'm just trying not to be miserable now.

And yet I don't seem to be able to get a one good day, today I was really close but it didn't end well.

I'm trying to be strong, to not think about it, to drown myself.

Life just keeps getting messier. I don't think I'm built to face it. 

I'm just too weak for everything. 

I wish I could just go away. 

I'm really sorry. 

This is the most I can write, I can't even face my diary. I can't even face myself. 

It sucks. 

I'm sorry. 

Good night.