I’m making too many blogs but I feel very volatile rn

I might do something horrific just for fun. Not to someone else, but I just feel very pent up. I’m full of energy and so lazy at the same time. I just slammed my hand into a wall because I got mad, I’ve been feeling very emotionless aside from humour and anger. I feel empty. Everything is just… tiring? I can’t have it in myself to care about others at all anymore and I want to regress into utter loneliness without a single expectation, but my brain cares about others a lot in the way that I feel physical anger whenever they interact with me. I want to overdose, or cut to the bone, or run into the woods, or break my bad leg, or do anything that would get me out of the cage of my family, my friends, my peers and teachers and into the bliss of the spiritual world, or into the void. I want to get into a coma. I want to be gone for a little while. 

There are only two things stopping me. I know people who hate me would be happy to see me suffer. Do I deserve it? Maybe. But I hate the idea of people I dislike, or people who dislike me, catching me suffering. I’m stronger than that. If I’m going to be pathetic and self-destructive I have to do it away from the hypothetical eyes of my enemies. Even the idea of it makes me stop whatever I’m doing… I can’t even self harm because I imagine how the people who hate me would belittle me for it. They’d all love to know. So I won’t do it. 

 I also think I have a lot to live for, even though the idea that I’m special is getting duller every day, despite the rampant egotism that has let me live with such ferocity until now. I’m creative, I guess, but I feel as if I have been reduced to that of an animal; apathetic, natural, holy in its belonging to our unique world but just like the rocks and dirt in its materialism. I just feel dead. But I can’t show vulnerability because the vultures shall swoop down and feed on my sorrow. I know I secretly deserve it, but the terrible side of my brain doesn’t. The Id, to give it a name that people will understand… I hate that part of myself. It gives me these visceral reactions, this pitiful behaviour. I feel hatred for myself even writing this due to the fact that my school might see my blogs. 

Report it if you must, teacher or student, whoever you are. I don’t exactly care tonight. 

Good thing is I am finding some joy in selling things on Vinted and making stickers and staring at my books. I’m not purely just miserable; I think the reason why I seem like such a miserable person is because I don’t enjoy the company of others, but alone I can find happiness. I’ve been laughing loud as FUCK to TikTok videos lately.

This isn’t a targeted post I’m just rambling tonight