One of these days I'm gonna take you all on holiday to America, purchase a gun (You might want to think about fixing your gun laws guys, lots of nutters like me about) and shoot you all. You probably need to be put out of your misery.

I think being emotionally dead is probably when people tell you that they want to die and you're more concerned by how unconcerned you are than by what they say. I think in that case I am, or at least am coming close to being, emotionally dead. Or just emotionally numb.

I'm becoming bored. So fucking bored. I think I'm going to need to join a support group for emotionally stable teenagers or something. Think they exist? See while all my fucked up friends get an all you can eat councelling deal, I'm stuck having to deal with people who have all sorts of problems, every day, and it no longer upsets me. Fuck I've begun to laugh, and I can't live with myself... I mean I have no choice but to live with myself, well of course I have a choice, but it's an easy one.

The problem is that right now, I'm torn directly between self love and self hatred and there is no in between.

I am as horny as fuck.

Ha. I read a diary entry telling me that one of my .. one of my best friends .. wants to kill herself, and all I can think about is being horny? Well I am.

It's like the girl who cried wolf. Think how bad you'd feel if you were one of the villagers who didn't come. Well I'm going to be one of those villagers, and if I am... then I'm going to have to be shut up in an insane asylum, because I won't .. I could never cope with that.

Someone's going to die.

Eventually.

Somebody is going to die.

And you're all going to be fucking responsible, because the rest of us, the ones who are still vaugley fucking rational, we're going to be fucking laughing at idle suicide threats, and we'll fucking come across someone who's being serious, and we'll laugh, and they'll die. And it will be your fault. I hope you can all fucking live with that blood on your hands. If you're lucky you won't know the fucking person who dies, but you'll still have just as much fucking blood on your hands, and I hope you can't wash it out. I hope you go fucking insane with guilt, like lady Macbeth. I hope you can't live with yourselves.

Because I know I'll have blood on my hands too, a good friend wouldn't laugh no matter how many times they heard it. But since Sam, I just laugh. I laugh at the idle threats, but I'm crying right now. You people fuck me up. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you.>