If you think I'm being foolish, or overdramatic, or overreacting, or if it bores you... ehh. I'm writing because I feel a lot better when I can put my thoughts into words. I'm writing because I'm hurting, I'm lonely, I'm frightened, I'm confused, and if I don't write I'm likely to do worse things.

I'm writing a lot of stuff here that's going to get very personal. So this is kind of the warning label, I guess.

Jax's Diary. My ramblings.

I don't really want to talk about most of this. This is... it's like when a friend gets drunk and cries on your shoulder. Except I don't even know whose shoulders I'm crying on. But that's not the point.

The point is that this is not stuff I want to talk about.

It's stuff I want to write about. I want to get it out. I want to be able to look back in a week, a month, a year, and be able to remember all of this. I want to be able to look at it now and actually DO something about it, maybe.

Hell. I don't know what I want.

I just know that right now I'm feeling a lot of things and I'm not dealing all that well with them. Please don't point out to me that I'm falling apart. Please don't tell me I'm nuts.

Please don't tell me I'm crazy.

I know I am.

*sighs softly*

I deleted a lot of entries that I wrote tonight, and I'm not going to put them back. They really are deleted. I don't do that often. Tonight I had a reason.

There are a lot of ways people react to stress and pain and so on... cutting. Drugs. Suicide.

I've been drugging myself into oblivion a lot lately, not as much as I'd like to be but most likely more than is actually GOOD for me. I'm trying to get away from that. That's a crutch I try not to need, although frankly, it really does hurt a lot right now.

*grrs* Incidentally, Mana... *grrs again* Please don't say you'll show up if you're not going to? This is something that just kind of bothers me.

But yeah. I'm trying to deal with this shit.

And if I'm getting OFF the drugs... I have a lot of scars. I really don't want to go back to cutting. It feels good but it's NOT good. It's not at all good.

Suicide? HELL no. I'm not going anywhere. Promised.

So what's left? Just me, here. Just what I can do with what I've got.

And what I've got is a mind that doesn't function as well as I would like.

I'm clever, yes. Bright. Sharp. Intelligent, even. But I'm also NOT sane. I get paranoid sometimes. I have what could loosely be defined as Multiple Personality Disorder. I crave pain, the sort of pain that turns me on. I don't deal well with authority. I can't seem to remember things, dates and times and names.

I'm not going to explain any of this. I'm not going to try to justify that. I'll be trying over and over... heck, most of this journal from the day I began it is one long explanation of me. That's not what this is about.

I'm just trying to draw an honest picture, and I'm not as good at it as I would like to be.

And right now I'm really hurting. I...

*sighs* I think I finally met someone sane. And he's sane enough to understand a bad thing when he sees it. And we'll just leave it at that, for now.

I don't want to sound vicious, but I know that right now when it's still fresh, still hurting, I can't hold all that back. It'll go away, though... I'll calm down, and I'll start...

...start what?

That's what I'm trying to figure out now.

Where do I go from here? What's the next step? What can I do to keep going, to keep surviving, to actually cheer up and fight my way out of this emotional and physical pit I'm in?

I know there's an answer.

And I'm going to find it.