Still having much difficulty sleeping as I think, Day 4 of no sleep approaches. Still with little idea as to what is troubling me, now new worries have surfaced that I am aware of and wish they hadn't revealed themselves to me. I have decided, I am sick of being sad, depressed, sensitive, caring, even loving and will set about to change all this immediately after realizing none of these things have ever ever helped me in any possible lasting way. I've been sad most of my life. Why? Who did it serve? What am I getting out of it? Attention can't be it, because everyone I know including me is sick of hearing about it.

Been depressed too long! I was told by many of the doctors in my past that I had very good reasons to be depressed, chemical imbalance wasn't one of the reasons unfortunately, otherwise I could fix that, I believe. One also told me my depression is a result of anger at myself. I wish for I could forgive myself for whatever the hell I did, because brother, I'm wasting valuable time in tears.

I'm a pussy! A weirdo! A fag! A fatso! A freak! A retard! A kike! A nigger! A bald headed bastard! A honky! I've been called so many things it's unbelievable! I still can't believe I've been called a kike, a fag and a nigger, but I have, more than once each. I must be something different to each person that hates me. I'm like that poor Martian in the Martian Chronicles that becomes what everyone wants to see and ends up dead because of it. I'm like the Zelig character in the Woody Allen film. People hating me is one thing, but when people supposedly love you and say hurtful things, it's the worst! I remember and feel every horrible thing my dad called me. I remember all the horrible things girlfriends have said, too.

I'm too sensitive! I know it! People sense it and get a thrill hurting me for fun. My dad you to call it, "Toughening Up!" People love to pretend they are being horrible for a good reason. It lets them off the hook. No guilt there. I'd have girlfriends tell me about how horrible their exes were to them, so the way these poor gals could feel better about themselves and get empowered was to use me as target practice for their outrage, because I was sweet, caring, loving and supportive and they felt safe to treat me like shit. Then they'd go spend their lives loving and living with the guy that beats them, calls them "cunts," rapes them... Man, have I been treating women the wrong way all my life or what? Everyday I learn what women really want, and it looks like it's not me.

Why do I care so much? What has caring ever done for me? Everything I've ever cared about has hurt me at some point. I will trust no longer. I will care no longer. I will love no longer. Now I will see where this gets me in my new life, because I know where I am now from all the caring and all the hurting and all the loving I've experienced and that's fucking nowhere!

Love is bullshit, we all know it. I guess I was fooling myself about it for all my life. It really is an illusion we make up in our heads to hypnotize ourselves into thinking the horrible day we are suffering through will be worth it because there are warm hugs and sweet kisses at the end of it. We adjust our lives, move like sharecroppers to where the crops are growing, once the love is gone, we move on. We move like artists to where the light is, where the sunflowers are, but once the painting is finished and no one buys what we've created, we are left hollow and unwanted. Love is like the oil slick. We think we need it. It's in demand. Soon our beautiful loving memories are tainted and stained like beaches. Pretty birds that soared in love are swallowed and smothered... and it keeps on moving.

I just watched this episode, of Doctor Who, called, "Vincent and the Doctor" written by one of my favorite writers, Richard Curtis, featuring one of my favorite actors, Bill Nighy, and then Tony Curran plays Vincent van Gogh, at the end of this I was in tears. This episode is amazing, just trust me on it. If you missed it, find it!

I really liked this one. I was so into it. Van Gogh is days away from suicide and Amy and the Doctor go back to help him fight a demon no one else sees. Is the monster Van Gogh's depression? He feels he's worthless because he can't make any money selling his paintings, he is treated so badly by the people around him, he's driven mad by his emotions, his talents, his loves... The monster tormenting Vincent was also alone and rejected by it's race just like he was by his and that's why he's the only one who could see it. I felt the show was very deep. I was moved at the end when Amy realized nothing they did made any difference in saving the great artist and essentially she asks, "...why, what's the point of it all?"

The song "Chances" by the band Athlete plays at an emotional moment when the Doctor in Richard Curtis' words sums up life to basically being "shit happens" but far more eloquently which makes the Doctor and Curtis so cool. I like to think if the Doctor could hold my hand and walk me through the time line of my life like some nerdy ghost of xmas past, he'd be able to fix me. He might even say to me, "Lights will guide you home and ignite your bones... And I will try to fix you!" But it's more likely things are out of the Doctor's hands, just as they are with God's and even he can't save anyone, so he might just say to me, "And all the roads we have to walk are winding. And all the lights that lead us there are blinding. There are many things that I would like to say to you, but I don't know how."