Yeah, I Did It

So I always write about depressing stuff, and I feel like it's getting ridiculous. I know it's getting ridiculous. No matter what I write about or whatever spin I try to put on anything, it always comes out all emo and stuff.

I'm trying to change that. I'm trying hard.

And I don't ever have anything decent to write about. All anyone wants to hear about is how I'm doing, how the cutting is coming along, how high I'm getting, how drunk I'm getting, what kinds of girls and boys I like, how many pills I've taken recently.

Answers: I'm depressed, haven't cut in a while, only got high once, haven't had alcohol in a while, I like all kinds of people, and I haven't touched anything other than an ibuprofen since Last Tuesday (the hospital day, for those who don't know).

Oh yeah, and it's really surprising to me that so many people still don't know about that. I'll fill you Behind-on-the-times Bettys in right...NOW. Or not. Because that would mean talking about depressing stuff. Ok, long story short, I took me an entire bottle of some anti-depressants--575mg, or 23x the recommended dosage (dose? dosage?)--ON PURPOSE and had to go to the emergency room. Now I'm on suicide watch and am not allowed to take any kind of medication ever for a couple months. When I sprained my ankle, I cheated and took some Motrin for the pain. One a day for a week. That's it. No more overdoses.

But anyway, I'm super excited about heading back to my apartment this weekend. As soon as I get my refund check, I'm off to get another tattoo. I desperately need it. Well, that's what I tell myself.

And for those who want to know about what I did the other day: Yes, I really did do that. No, it's not what you think. And no, I'm not going to tell you what was in the envelope (unless your name starts with a B or a J or maybe a K, or if you have two middle names)