I haven’t seriously faced why I keep making lousy choices, so I need to do that now.  My avoidance of this issue is making my body go nuts with psychosomatic symptoms ranging from back pain to immunodeficiency.

So, why do I keep making lousy choices: getting into that stranger’s car, avoiding clear patterns of bad behavior?  I would tell any girl I saw acting like me that she was obviously suffering from some self-loathing, as well as self-destructive behavior that may or may not signify burgeoning suicidal tendencies.

I can’t deny, these are the actions of someone who is not happy.  But here, I have to make a note: I don’t think there’s something in my life making me unhappy.  I think it’s just my depression.

Of course, that could easily be avoidance of an issue in my life.

Gosh, I’m a fool.  My mind contradicts itself at every turn, doubts its every thought.  I can’t stop wondering, is it like this for everyone?

I told Sang and Sam that I thought my twitches are my strong physical reaction to my thoughts, that I often cringe away from my everyday occurrences.  They said, “That’s understandable—considering.”

I didn’t like that: “considering.”  I had wanted them to say, they too cringed away from their thoughts several times an hour.  I want to be normal and okay.

I’m a child.  I feel like nothing more than a silly child faking my way through the world.  Any day, someone will be irreversibly angry with me, and I won’t be able to do anything I’ve dreamed of doing.  Any day now, I’ll mess it all up for good.

I’m so frightened by the things going on inside my head, I sometimes don’t have the leftover feeling to fear the dangers outside myself.  That’s definitely not the whole answer to why I’ve been making such bad choices, but it’s undoubtedly a related truth worth reveling in.  I don’t recall having felt fear—having felt anything, really—when I accepted the stranger’s ride or when I consistently avoided thinking about the potential repercussions of my actions.

It leads me back to why am I making these choices?  Do I want to feel young again?  Is that what it is?  Do I need to feel alive and act as if these crazy things I do are okay because I’m afraid I’m missing my youth?  Is this the parentified child rebelling during the first days of her independence?

Are these the tame precursors of a condition or the rantings of a narcissist?  I’m struggling to figure out which possibility I can live with?