“If I could separate me from myself, I’d stay away from me.”

Hello, dear die-ary. Ready for another piece of depressing confessions? No? Okay, here goes.
I really hate having bad days (well, duuh, bitch, who likes having them?). And by bad days, I mean those that start bad from the morning and continue until 12:25… sorry, 12:26am. And I know that when you look at it from another angle, there are worse things that could happen to you. But those days happen to be the ones when you don’t have the energy to not give a fuck and go with the flow. And today was one of those days. What started it off was checking my exam results this morning. I didn’t have the courage to check them myself, I asked one of my friends to do it for me. As you have probably guessed, I failed. No, not all of them, good heavens, if it was all of them, I would be in the hospital right now. I failed the politics one – Warfare after Waterloo. Usually when I imagine bad things happening, somehow I reverse the process. I guess that can’t work all the time. I just knew I’m gonna fail it big time, like I did with the essay for it. And I thought the other alternative, European politics, would be boring. At least I took that module last year, I had some ground for it, I would have done better at it (enough hindsighting, smartass, you failed, it’s over). Yes, it is over, what I’m left with is a whole summer stuck in Aber and a fucking resit at the end of August. Geez, they couldn’t do it in the beginning, so I can enjoy at least one month of my vacation. Sorry, Benji, it seems you and I aren’t gonna see each other very often. It is possible to have the resit in Bulgaria, at the embassy, but I’m sure my parents will have a word to say about that. Or against that, for that matter. They did try to calm me down, that it’s not a big deal, that they have failed exams a number of times. My friends here failed theirs as well and don’t really give a shit. And I know it’s not a big deal, that I’m probably reacting this way, because it happens to me for the first time, that I have to stay here anyway to look for a job… But every time something that keeps taking me back home leaves my life, something else comes in its place. And it sounds ridiculous – to want to go home for some silly dog, or because you still feel like a kid, or because you want to see your friends, those who really understood you, or because you miss terribly the ones you could talk to for hours without getting bored but never gonna speak to ever again… or because you know you’re never gonna find anyone to replace them. And all this because I failed one stupid exam…
Anyway, that’s what made my entire day feel like shit. I did have some moments of clarity, but on the inside it was still the same. Today was the Bulgarian Liberation Day, our national holiday. Some 3rd year students organised a party in one of the restaurants in town for the Bulgarians. After I saw my results in the morning, I didn’t wanna go at all, they barely convinced me anyway. But everyone told me to go, to clear my mind and stop thinking about the results, and have fun. Well, guess what, I didn’t have fun. Five minutes after we got in, I already wanted to go home. Tonight was just another slap in my face. Our music, our behaviour, everything there reminded me why I went to study abroad, why I couldn’t stand living in my country. But it also showed me something else – that I don’t fit in there either. When you’re in another country, having people from your home place around is supposed to make it easier. It made me feel like an alien. I didn’t fit at home, I don’t fit here. At one point, I was all alone at the table, and I don’t blame anybody for that. Everyone would choose to have fun than to stay with the sad weirdo. That’s my problem – I want someone who would choose to stay with me over alcohol and vulgar fun, and I know that person doesn’t exist. I’m one knife to the heart away to finally admitting something to myself – that I’m not special, I’m not unique, I’m not here for a reason, and people leave me the second they find something better (Damn it, Disney, that’s not what you said it would be!!!).
I know I sound a lot emo, I know nobody fit in when they were teenagers, but, hey – I’m not a fucking teenager anymore, and I still don’t fit in anywhere. Sometimes the dark thoughts crawl back into my mind and refuse to leave. You know – the suicidal ones. I go to the beach often and all the time I just want to throw myself off the bridge and be done with it. I never wanted to be this way. It just happened I was sad all my life. For no reason at all, most of the time. No wonder people would leave me. I’m too weak for this world, and the world doesn’t need another whiny brat still living with hopes, dreams and fairytales. How can you be 20 years old and already broken by everything? I haven’t  even lived a bad life, I didn’t grow up in poverty, I didn’t have my parents divorce, I didn’t lose them, I didn’t have accidents or diseases to ruin me. I just lived the wrong life, got in the wrong place at the wrong time. A grief for something that never happened – that’s gotta be it. I hope there’s another dimension where I got everything right, I really do. Sometimes I actually wish for the Apocalypse to happen and erase all that shit around me. That way I can finally stop worrying about the future. Ironic, isn’t it?