Fuck.

OK. Maybe I'm not fully OK yet. I'm not quite sure if I care right now. No, at the moment I don't care.

Maybe I should talk to my mother? Ask her if she'll send me to a psychologist. Because there is something wrong, and I have no idea what it is.

Fuck the world. I went to a psychologist for a freaking half a year! That's quite some time. Shouldn't it go away then? Shouldn't I feel perfectly fine now? Why am I not happy?

Maybe I'm chasing perfection, even though the world is imperfect. Am I supposed to feel this way? Please, I beg you, go away. I don't want this to happen once more.

Is this really a major deja vú? Is this exactly how I was last summer? If it is, then fuck it. I want to have a life. I want to be happy. I want to be normal.

Why am I doing this to myself? Why is my body doing this? Why is my mind screwing everything up?

Fuck.