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I had to do a finish sketch of a crime scene and I was putting it off. I was just consumed with this constant need to escape from reality. I think my mom has finally pushed me to the breaking point. The littlest thing going wrong sets off a rage in me and I just want to cry. But I can't cry. Something in me won't let me cry. Even if tears starts coming down my eyes, a chain reaction starts in me. I close my eyes and try to regain control. I can't stop it. Believe me, I've tried. I've tried to let myself cry because I pray it will make me feel better. But the emotions stop anyways and I go numb.

However, the robot I constructed to get me through my day to day tasks has malfunction. I kept putting off my homework and now I am going to miss class in the hopes I can hand it in late. Oh, don't worry. Even if I can't, we are required to hand in 20 out of 22. So I just have to try and repair what's left of my robot. Of course, even with the repairs...it will just barely function.

I can handle the s**t I put myself through but I just can't handle what my mom puts me through, on top of everything else. I finally let her words really affect me and the end result is = I feel like s**t. Almost like a total waste of space. I can't help around the house like I used to and still want to. I stress so much about money and my debt, and it has started to affect my health. Don't worry, it isn't too serious. I just need to lower my salt intake and drink more water. Who has the time to drink 64 oz of water? I have to drink 8 water bottles a day to accomplish that.....I've been up since 5am and I am still on my first. I work at a grocery store and unfortunately, the cheap things have a lot of sodium in it. But I can't help it. I got paid on Wednesday. By Thursday, I'm on my last 12 dollars to last me until next pay day. What did I spend my money on? Bills. All of it went to bills.

I want a cigarette. I left my pack at home. Hopefully, during the day maybe I bun off someone. I should quit. But I can't help....or really won't help it. I'm avoiding drinking. But I need something to hold me off......so I switched vices......I should quit. I should quit. I need to quit. For me. For my health. When did I become so dependant on these vices? When I was 17 and I found out how easy it was to escape reality at the bottom of a bottle. Even the hangovers kept me distracted from everything around me. I was too worried about trying not to puke to worry about reality. Or, if I was really lucky, I would sleep. Sleep. It has always been my friend. I should sleep. I need sleep. I need to find real escape. I even resorted to Gaia to provide me with an escape.

I need to reprogram the robot. I need to get my work done. This dark road has to end...right? I don't want to do nothing in my darkness. I don't want to have more regrets....Regret. I have enough of them. I have done things I can never forgive myself for. I want a cigarette.

I despise my mother. If I ever try to defend myself against her, she wins. Because in the end, she always make me feel like s**t. Ungrateful. She thinks I'm ungrateful. I don't understand how. What the hell does she want from me? I need to get away from her.......one problem. Money. I am broke and still depended on her. I hate it.

It's official. I'm broken.