This life has taken its toll on me

Much of the last entry can be disregarded.

Uber-Jay was so shortlived that had I not mentioned the feeling in my last entry it would have gone unremarked. Instead the feeling that I could take on the world has been quickly replaced by a feeling like the world has largely forgotten I exist and how it would be just so much easier to step in front of a train.

I stood in the shower this morning and as the too-warm water fell on my face I wished I was dead. It's not an uncommon feeling. I have had enough, this life has taken its toll and I don't much feel like carrying on.

I had a job interview, and it didn't go badly -- but I think the fact I can't drive and haven't passed a single fucking one of my exams yet might stop me being offered one of the two vacancies they have. I didn't mention that last part to them, by the way, I more coyly suggested I am not the most academically brilliant person and had some resits to take, but was expecting to pass them without a problem. The truth is I have no more idea if I will pass my exams next week, or if I will find them any easier than the original ones.

As I stood at the station, waiting for my train back I observed casually how many high-speed trains just fly through the station, and how it would be all-too-easy to 'accidentally' get that little bit too close to the edge.

I have since seen my doctor, who says that last week's pains in my stomach and side are nothing to worry about if they have gone away, she also could find nothing untoward in that place guys dread to check for lumps. But most of all she was not the slightest bit happy that I wasn't taking my medication. She didn't seem as interested that on Monday I was Uber-Jay and nothing could stop me, so much as that now I am incredibly unhappy. She says this is not the time to stop the medication.

I wonder what she would have said, had I told her the thoughts I am writing about today.

Last night I lay on my bed, screaming out in my mind for someone to hear me, for someone to help me. Someone to just come and take me away, because I don't want this any more. Needless to say, nobody heard me.

So at the end of this we find me now back on the medication, realising that I am actually not a fictional, half-robotic and undead serial killer (and probably should not compare myself to such things), and -- yes -- I do realise that if I want anyone to hear me I should try screaming outside of my own head next time and maybe try calling someone instead.