I don't know where to start. . . no longer sure when my bad mood began, what the exact trigger was, or why I can't seem to shake it. I have two ways to go on this; in or out. But if I go in, I have to go all in. I'd have to be the best- put in the most hours, know the most people, pass exams, impress. I'd have to care- ha. And I'd have to give up a lot of other things, a lot of things I'm not ready to lose. I'm sick of being judged, sick of that one question and the worried looks with my response, the nervous answers telling me its okay. I know its friggin okay- I don't care why the hell should you? Why don't people hate you? Why don't you annoy them like you annoy me? And if you don't annoy them like you annoy me- then go talk to them and leave me the hell alone. Because you drive me crazy, frustrate me and more than anything you make me feel stupid- which I fucking hate! I'm not stupid which I know but when you give me step by step instructions, make decisions for me, and waste my time with making things that don't matter thats how I feel. I don't think at work, theres no point in me being there other than to do data entry for you. What do you do all day- because everything we do, I do. But they like you and it sucks. You all had this idea, we had this idea. We discussed this, that I could be good at this, and now it sounds like its just me. You all seem to think I should do something different or stick it out. I just don't know that I can do that- know there will be sacrifices, big sacrifices but right now its the only option that makes sense to me. And I wish you would all agree again. I left trying not to cry, I'm not sad just mad. Just frustrated, with nothing I can do and no way I can fix it. I had to wear it to volleyball, I wore pants. Pants to cover it because its not a conversation I want to have, not something I want to have to explain. I wish I hadn't said anything to anyone, because when you apologized I almost fell apart. When you looked me in the eye with all that worry and genuine concern it was real and permenant and a pain that everyone would know about. I don't want to see you, I mean I do but I don't. I don't want to be questioned, to be lectured. I already know and already hate it but your "encouragement" is only going to make things worse. . . . word vomit.