I've started this journal thing so many times and once i got past the first couple of words, I would erase it and try to start again.

I don't even know what to say really.

I'm sick of life, I guess. I desperately want to go home or anywhere that's far away from here. The weight that falls on my shoulders is getting too much to handle.

I feel alone although I know I'm not. I feel hopeless, lost, confused but at the same time, I am so comfortable.

I guess "rock bottom" is my home now. The worst state of being possible. The state of being alive but not living. Its the state of breathing and doing but not feeling. And for those of you who know exactly what I'm talking about, its the most terrible feeling in the world. But it's all I have.

People keep telling me things will get better. I'm not sure I believe them. They say "there's no where left to go but up" but there's plenty of other places to go.

So to all of you who still have hope, this is what life is.