Humidity

I don't know what to say, I don't know what to do. It's so hot right now- the air is stifling. I've gotten sick of "work"- not that I've done much work. Revision makes me want to vomit, though a lot of times I feel like I barely revised at all. The fridge is almost empty but I'm still okay because I don't eat a lot of food. I'm quite comfortable in my room, but I don't feel very productive despite how long my days are. Maybe it's because I was all hyped up for work, and then I had a two week holiday. All my work is still there, I just feel a little... I don't know, it's almost like I'm at ease.

Sometimes I still think about "home", and whenever I do it kinda hurts and I get a bit of chest pain and a bit of a headache. It sure is lonely out here, but I think I still feel better now, with my mood at a flat line. It's weird to feel this neutral... like, I'm unable to feel happiness or sadness. Doing work doesn't make me feel bad (well, apart from the wanting to vomit thing), playing games doesn't make me feel good. I just go on with everything out of habit... I'm living but there's no sense of purpose. Well, I guess in the long run there's purpose, but in the short run it's all very dull.

Compare this to when I was down South- I was almost bipolar. Well, not in the mood disorder sense, but when I went out with my friends I was euphoric- I felt so good. Then I dreaded coming "home", began to feel suppressed, and the whole situation fell apart and I spiraled into a vortex of depression. I don't want to go back. I know my parents expect me to be back, but I'd rather not be back. It's healthier if they stay out of my life right now, because I still feel lingering disgust and I haven't been away to wash away that bad taste in my mouth, after all the bitterness I was forced to swallow. There's the matter of my shattered pride, my own feelings of injustice and when you get down to it, I simply don't feel safe there.

Not that I think they'll beat me up or anything, but I'm more dangerous to myself than anyone else is to me. I say I'd rather hurt others than hurt myself, but what happens when I get hurt by others getting hurt? It's a dead end of me, isn't it? Stupid sense of attachment, being indoctrinated from childhood about the importance of filial piety and idealization of the concept of "family". It's a lie. It's all a fucking lie.

You know when you read a book and it talks about how you just feel a connection with your family, those of your blood, because you're related so you just feel attachment? FUCKING. BULLSHIT. I DON'T FEEL SHIT. IF I HAD AMNESIA I WOULD NOT BE ABLE TO PICK OUT MY BIOLOGICAL PARENTS FROM A CROWD, AND I WOULDN'T BE "AWAKENED" BY SOME WARM FUZZY FEELING IN MY HEART. THERE'S NOTHING THERE.

It's so fucking empty, and between a mix of resentment and sorrow, I try to distance myself from the whole affair.

Man I wish it would rain. It's so hot right now.