Something odd happened to me today. I got angry and couldn't calm myself down for hours. I started thinking of worse things than I usually think and I felt evil. And it was scary, and I'm afraid of a lot of things now... like I thought/think there were/are bad spirits in my room and I had to put something in every corner of my room because I think if I don't I'll see something standing there in the night and I need to cover the chairs because if I don't something might be sitting there. I feel like everything's evil. And I always thought I was okay if I never thought of doing things that might hurt other people, but I did and I'm scared and it feels like something dirty or demonic entered my body and put those thoughts there. I just had a bit of a breakdown I think, for a few hours. My mom came to my door and apologized but she doesn't have time to entertain me or make me feel better and she can't afford to send me to a doctor. I remember her looking short in my doorway. I was standing in my room wild-eyed and confused at the mess and was thinking how much better it would make things if a friend would just call me and acted like they gave a shit and then my phone rang and holy shit, it was the counseling services from university calling to set up treatment. I could feel myself starting to cry at the fucked up timing and quickly spit out "I actually am home this semester, so I'm not in the city anymore" so I couldn't go to counseling. The lady on the phone said something and at some point said something like "Well I'm calling to just make sure that everything is going as you've planned." but it was one of those statements that was more like a question. And I just said "Alright well thanks." And she paused awkwardly because I could tell she was expecting an answer as to whether or not things were actually going well, and said bye, and I hung up without saying goodbye back because I was starting to cry. Then I thought of all the times adults in my life could have really helped me had they just fucking pursued the question for longer than a second.

I almost cut myself up but then I remembered that I'm not mad at myself, I'm mad at other people so I shouldn't be taking it out on my body, because my body seems to be the only thing that's good to me anymore. I should instead be calling people up and telling them off, asking them where the fuck were you all those nights I fucking needed someone and you were too fucking busy? And why the fuck is everyone too busy for me? Really, what am I doing wrong that enables everyone to treat me like shit?

Instead of hurting myself or creating any sort of confrontation, I put my aggressive energy into cleaning the shit out of my room and putting some stuff on my wall/ceiling, and organizing some stuff.

I wrote my suicide note. All it says is "Fuck capitalist healthcare."
I'm not really suicidal, I figured, you know, feeling like a clever asshole tonight. Actually if I were really going to kill myself I'd also enclose the contact information for a few friends who would need to know but would be unreachable otherwise.