This is where I'm at.

I just had a total and complete emotional breakdown in front of my mom. I told her how much I hate my life, that I feel ashamed of myself and how much I hate myself, and that I want to kill myself every day. I started crying, and walked off to go to my room - and she continued to watch TV.

I have no one to talk to. No one that knows I'm suicidal, and no one that knows how much I hate living. I was driving home on the highway last night and I swerved my car; I wanted to try and flip it into the ditch on the shoulder, and I was testing to see how much I would have to turn the wheel. It's not much at all. I'm afraid of driving alone now because I literally think I'll do it. I just wouldn't want to end up paralyzed.

I keep having dreams where I'm lost, and I'm trying to find my horses. And I usually find them after dealing with a lot of confusion and mythical creatures. I find my Fancy. And then I wake up, and I have to remember that I won't find her. And that we weren't able to save her.

I cut myself again today. Vertically on my wrist, instead of across it. I wanted to see if I could do it slowly. I was at my friends house the other night and I got drunk, and if I had been able to take apart her razor there, I would have cut myself that night, too.

I'm alone. I'm angry. I'm hopeless and I hate my life; or, rather more to the point, I hate myself.