Just cant stand.

I fucking lost it on my mother.

Shut up.
Shut up.
SHUT UP.
DO YOU FUCKING HEAR ME?

I need a fucking therapist.
I was once teeming with motivation.
Now I find it incredibly hard to do anything more then 60 seconds.

I feel no self gratification in anything I do. I feel like breaking something. I'm terrified of showing myself around others. But I'm myself when I'm outside.

I'm constantly isolated in this house and I think it might be getting to me. I've been here three days and I've only seen people here for less then four hours total. I am here constantly.

I need to read a book. But I couldn't careless about it. Its as if my body is struggling to find an out for this stress. Its consuming me, coursing through me. The only solace it can find is in absence of action. I cannot expend myself in futile actions because I feel I'm ever so close to just fucking going bat shit if something "hurts my feelings."

Ending that sentence was rather odd. I'm afraid of something "hurting my feelings." I don't understand that. I'm finding its hard to comprehend what I just wrote. Is this my lack of a short term memory? I don't know what could "hurt my feelings."

I need happiness.

Something in me changed while writing this.