April 17th, 2023 | 1:11pm

(Playing on spotify: “The Sense of me” - mudflow)

Just got back from french 102, I slept through Human Communications class. Life’s felt strange, I feel like I’ve been crying all day, but there’s been no tears. I’ve also had this feeling I’ve never had before the suicide attempt with the shotgun. I was sitting in the car back then and I learned about the feeling I’ve had lingering all day. When Death’s lingering, you become hyperaware of everything living around you. You put yourself in their shoes for a moment. Maybe it’s a stray dog looking for some pets, an ant scared and starving but working hard on sidewalk deserts, a girl who’s been cheated on, a teacher living her best life somewhere new, the trees just blissfully existing (dropping pollen), someone looking at you and seeing right through your mask because they wear the same one (but you don’t notice them), or maybe you’re a wasp in the dining hall that survived being smashed. Trying desperately to reattach your head and fly, coming close but nothing ever clicking. Pushing yourself in circles for what feels like forever before finally giving up and rolling on your back, waiting, begging death just to take from life and into the abyss.

I’m reading that now, and suddenly get it. No wonder my gut told me to write.

Class ended and (redacted) asked me when I could come in for the test I wanted to redo and the one I missed. I didn’t know how to tell her I don’t want to be here right now. I just wanted to go home. I don’t know where that is, but I want to go there instead right now.

Then I walked out, telling her I’d have to get back to her. My knee started to hurt when I got outside. I had to go and sit down, so I went into the art building and sat with [the Vincent] Van Gogh [statue]. Something just hit me, reminding me I was still trying to do my best here, because there’s a chance I might pull a hail-mary and get my grades up enough this week. Of course, the odds are against it. I’m not holding my breath, but fuck the odds! I have to try. Stranger things have happened.

I’ll see if I can buy myself enough time to look over some of the material before checking the test out again.

I have art soon, then I gotta get the Slate camera back to (redacted) It’s been a lot of fun, but I’ve had this thing for over 2 weeks now!

I’ve just tired of repeating this routine every semester. Do great, fuck up, rush to fix it at the last minute. I can do this, I know I can, but something keeps getting in the way and sapping my drive to do anything. I need to find a way around that… or through it.

[Either way…]

There’s two words I keep thinking. I don’t know why.

Tornado Warning.

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Some entries have been censored and edited out of respect for both my, and others personal lives as well as for clarity. These are all true journal entries, starting from when I was given the journal in a rehabilitation hospital, none of which will be released to the public until weeks or months after being written. At any given point, they may be taken down for a plethora of reasons.