Three

There's a foreign entity living, breeding, growing in my throat, entirely painless except I can't swallow right but utterly terrifying nonetheless. To think about all the millions of bacteria and parasites and bugs I come in contact with every day makes my skin crawl and to know there's a whole visible colony of them living on my swollen tonsils makes me want to rip them right out of my throat. I told Josh of my predicament, glad he's not sick too, then I stupidly asked hi over again. he must be getting sick of me by now, I'm too clingy again. I can't see how he'd want to be around me, how anyone would want to be around me. I do nothing but sit around and mope, I don't live up to my potential. I could be so, so much more but I'm not. Although sometimes the greatest people were never actually recognized in their lifetimes but I'm not going to be one of those people. I still think about dying simply because I'm a waste of space, I don't know what to so with my life so I choose to do nothing at all or to do things that don't matter but am I really choosing? Is there really anything to suggest we have a real choice in anything in our lives? Our brains just make us think that we do, scientifically the only logical explanation is that everything is predetermined whether you look rom a quantum physics perspective or  newtonian perspective or philosophical perspective but I can't accept it. I should read up on arguments for the opposite, arguments for choice. Or come up with my own, use my damn brain for once. I'm so impressionable, not a single original bone in my body nor thought in my head. Nothing. I'm an empty vessel, waiting to be filled perhaps but could I be more cliche? See what I mean? Nothing original. Nothing at all. My mind is always racing but still empty, empty of any true belief or conviction or idea. Nothing in there is ME, I don't even know what that is. Who am I? Again, cliche. There we have it, I'm a walking cliche. Although to be fair things are cliche for a reason. I wonder if as I'm writing these I intentionally focus on my negative thoughts because it sounds more artistic, the broken girl. Damn sitting on the floor makes me sore. Also I love my handwriting even if it's extremely hard to make out when I'm moving fast trying to keep up with my brain. I should take notes like this in school and then type them up immediately after. It would help solidify the material in my mind. I really need to make a better study plan and habits for next semester with all my hard classes. Not that I'll stick to it anyway, I'll probably end up wallowing on the floor a depressed mess like last semester unless possibly the herbs start working. Who knows. They might work better if I knew the supposed theories behind it. Maybe I wouldn't understand but I still strive to know. I have no thoughts of my own so I have an insatiable need to fill my head with the thoughts of others. I should try and focus on what is my own. These thoughts now I suppose, some of them at least. My opinions on others' thoughts are my own. Or are they? Even things most people wold assume came entirely from within themselves are forever influenced by the outside world, by their experiences and interactions. Our brains are nothing but reactionary machinery. But then where do these higher thought processes fit in? I can't accept that there is a soul but at the same time I cannot accept that there is not. I need to find out some day for sure. I need to know or at least put forth energy into finding out but it's such a daunting task. And one that many would say I'm foolish to pursue. Will  that stop me? do I live entirely for the opinions of others? Kind of. More than I should. But for everyone who hates on it there is at least one who would accept it so really when it comes to humanity anything goes. Everything goes. But by saying that am I condoning rapists and murderers and  people that are generally considered bad? Not really. And it's scary to think that they generally truly believe they are correct in their actions. Hitler truly thought what he was doing was best. Sometimes I catch myself falling into a similar mindset when I think about killing off the idiots of the world or at least sterilizing them so they can't breed. I scare myself sometimes but then at the same time I'm so desensitized. I think and dream of blood flowing out of me and never blink an eye at it. I crave it. I was watching House a lot today and I find myself wishing I had some medical condition, something painful. But only a certain kind of pain. And what do I really get? Painless yet terrifying strep throat.