I guess I really am stupid. I can't handle anything. I've been busting my ass to stay on top of work and classes and here I am again, failing miserably. My grade point average is 1.6.  What the fuck am I supposed to do? I'm running out of options and I can't even kill myself right.

I wake up, 4am, spitting large puddles of blood into a tissue next to my pillow.  My stitches came loose, shit.  I shoot up out of bed trying to run to find gauze but I stood up too fast. CRASH to the floor. Scraping my back against an end table I see the grey sparkles and begin to feel warmth flowing from my head to my toes and lots of warmth in my ... hands? Oh yeah, bleeding. Blood, piles of it. I sit there for a moment like a child admiring my pale blood shining through the spots of grey that are fading away.

MY KITTEN TURNED ON MY CAPS LOCK.

My swan song will be so ugly.

Everything dies alone.

My cat died a little over a week ago. He was 10. Had a stroke, crawled to a corner and laid down. Shining a flashlight in his eyes, his pupils did nothing. He could hardly breathe.

I sat with him all morning long. Tried petting him, but it looked like it hurt, so I laid down in front of his face so he could see me.  I asked my mom to bring one of my dad's dirty shirts so he could smell it, because my dad was his favorite person to sit on.

He started to have seizures, jolting up onto his front feet, then slowly, slowly, slowly melting back down to the floor.  These fits came every few minutes.

I didn't leave him until I got up to go get dressed. When I came back, after 2 minutes tops, he was gone. He waited to be alone to die, verifying my fear that everything dies alone.

It's weird knowing I won't die as a teenager.

I always thought I would. One more reason I've always felt it should have been me instead of him.  But I've outlived him by two years now, I'm two whole years older than he'll ever be.  Born four years before me, he'll remain 18 forever, but who knows how much longer I'll make it.

Make it?

Twenties. I should be doing something with my life. I spend my days running around with little children grabbing at my knees, looking up in my eyes, relying on me to solve their problems. Baby-fine hairs getting stuck to their tear-soaked cheeks. Problems, little as they are, seeming like gigantic problems in their eyes.  For me, they're so easy to solve. Is this how people look at me? Naive, unable to handle my own life, uneducated and undeveloped?

One more week of being 19.

I can't believe I'm still so young. It's ridiculous, really.