04/25/2003 - 2:20 p.m. | on panic

I hate this. I hate it. I can't calm down. I know I have nothing to be worried about, but I honestly can't feel that. Everything has sort of a ... sinister edge, you know? I mean, not that everything's out to get me, but that nothing's good or swell. Radiohead's "No Surpises" came on, and the little synthy bells just sounded so wrong! It worries me a lot. It's all very grating. And I just don't see what my function here is. It seems like the world would go on just the same if I weren't around. Actually, this is not true. Thanks to the mere exposure effect (oh, social psych), some of you have grown fond of me, so I guess I would be missed in that respect. But I don't think I'm really offering anything up good. If I hadn't been around to start with, I don't think things would be much different. Every time I talk to anybody, I feel like I have to fight my way all the way through. Conversation is easy with no one. This includes my roommates, Lisa, and my parents. I feel like all I say is so dumb and pointless and why would anyone care. And I hate how I get whining like this, but these feelings are driving me nuts, so I have to try and vent somehow because lying against the wall and twitching isn't gonna do me shit. I really wish somebody could help me out because nothing I do seems to work, but why would they want to because I'm so boring and crazy and whiny and annoying?! Comfort would be good, but I have to take the movie back, interview, and work. My mom asked if I thought the meds were working. Somehow I don't think so. The funny thing is that I prolly seem pretty together to a lot of people. I work pretty hard to get everything done and with a fair degree of quality; I'm fairly responsible, competent, polite, etc. Funny about the walls we put up. How am I gonna make it through tonight?