Damn, it's almost my birthday in less than a month. I’ll be 19; how time flies. my last journal entry in here is from the day I turned 16 I believe. A lot of s**t has surely changed in three years. I went from being an enthusiastic kid who had such a bright future in college and even got into Harvard at 15 before taking my first class when I was 17 I believe. I failed that s**t hard and was hoping to keep going anyway, but then life ******** me up beyond repair. Grandma got sick, mom quit her job, my brother was homeless and crashing on our couch, while I ended up abusing drugs to cope and having mental illness consume me.

It started off with stealing some of my grandmas Xanax and experimenting with them, then it was weed, then harder drugs like codeine and hydrocodone, OxyContin, ecstasy, and acid. I’m pretty sure I’m forgetting some others, but may “favorites” were weed, narcotics, xans, cocaine, and ecstasy. I've since quit xans, coke, narcos, weed, and I can't even take ecstasy anymore cause my antidepressants to interfere and make them useless. All I really do now is abuse Lyrica cause in high doses it feels like ecstasy a little but with a way more clear mind, and the best part is that it's nearly impossible to overdose on unless you mix them with other depressants. Other than that, I guess I’m “clean” from the majority of the s**t I was on.

I’m now tattooed and my neighbor did em for me. I got the chemical formula of the drugs I’ve been addicted to. Yeah I know, edgy, but I figured its a way to combine my previous drug addiction struggles with my love of chemistry. I also have a symbol from the game soma on the back of my right hand. I’m so impulsive that I leaped straight into a visible tattoo. Then there’s my birth year (2000) tattooed on the back of my arm, I got the idea from yung lean. And finally......... an Adam Lanza tattoo. Yeah..... my black a** just sittin here with that tattooed on my leg. The reason I got it is because I’ve been researching mass shootings since I was 14, and I’ve always been able to relate to him. Studying him with an open mind will ******** up your whole perception of society and life in general. It’s sad that his genius was wasted and he took the route he did. He and I are like total opposites of each other physically but exactly the same mentally I guess. We have almost the exact same mental illnesses, same life experiences, same interests. Also, I’m dating his cousin so that’s neat. He has the same surname so if anyone asks about this tattoo I can say its for my boyfriend and move along.

Speaking of him, I’m so glad I have him. I’m extremely isolated and a hermit basically, ergo I have no friends in person and never have since leaving elementary school and being homeschooled. I also never made any friends in college cause no one wanted to be friends with someone so young, so I was ******** basically. No social skills in sight. All of my friends have been online, and I certainly consider them real friends. But Robbie is ultimately my best friend. Just like his cousin, we’re exactly alike and it's so eerie that we honestly believe that we share a common ancestor. We say things at the same time, we have the same exact life experiences just like Adam, same mental illnesses, everything. Once again, he’s just physically opposite to me. I’m a short and chubby black woman and he’s a tall anorexic white man, but everything about us spiritually and mentally is an exact carbon copy. How ******** up is it that before I got the courage to message him, we actually went to college right next to each other? When I was at Harvard in Cambridge, he was at MIT in Boston. Once we figured this s**t out, I then start talking about an incident involving a cat at Harvard. there was this big orange cat going around the entire school (all 12 schools they have actually) begging for food and treats. we then started naming the cat; the arts and music school named him after musicians and artists like Beethoven and van Gogh or whatever, the science school would name him after hawking or turing, so on and so forth. then Robbie tells me that there was that same ******** cat at mit and he actually pet the cat. it's truly wild; I wish I could list all the other weird coincidences and common things we share but that’ll take forever.
I guess another fact about him is that he loves guns a lot. just like uh, Adam..... yeah... he loves guns that much. he goes shooting a lot. actually almost shot up his own high school and went to prison for it. so he turned his life around and that’s neat, gives hope I guess. but yeah he’s like, the greatest ray of sunshine to come into my miserable life. like, we both have ADHD something bad. I have no social skills and I’m really weird and ******** up, so I do this thing where I just randomly send him messages of anything and everything. most of the time it's not important and just whatever I’m thinking. it goes something like this:

Me: Hey babe did you hear about what happened to Etika
Me: hope work is going well
Me: holy s**t you won't believe what just happened *70 additional messages describing what just happened*
Me: man I don’t think my concerts is working
Me: bruh I should get these tickets to go see breaking Benjamin they’re so ******** cheap
Me: hey here’s a pic of my mom at a Rammstein concert
Me: don’t you think your cousin could’ve handled his situation just a tad bit better like did he have to go that hard on them kids

So... yeah, I’m pretty ******** clingy and weird. But I don’t ever be clingy. Like I don’t ever demand him to speak to me or spend more time with him or get mad at him when he’s gone at work and not responding for weeks sometimes. It does make me depressed and lonely when he leaves cause as I said, I have no friends. But what comforts me when he’s gone is just parking my a** in his inbox and saying whatever’s on my mind. The best part? Because he has ADHD too, he deadass sits there and scrolls through all the messages I sent while he was gone (when he’s gone for a few days, messages can get up to 50; a week or longer, one hundred or more messages; My record is 1500+, which I’ll definitely discuss) and he said that because of his adhd, he never gets bored reading my messages because I’m always all over the place and switching topics like no tomorrow. People with adhd need change and variety, so my crazy a** throws all those messages at him, he reads and deadass responds to them, and then we have a normal conversation when he’s available to talk.
About the 1500 messages, well one night i took 300mg of ecstasy. The iconic blue publisher pill. I just took it straight up; not breaking it in half and dosing steadily. I just down all of those amphetamines at once for the first time experimenting with the drug and lost it. I’m still searching for the remainder of my brain cells. That was the best high I’ve ever had in my life if I’m honest, so i blew up robbie’s Inbox. Literally blew it up. Saying whatever the ******** my brain could conjure up, and my brain couldn’t form coherent thoughts so half of what i said made no sense (another bonus, robbie works with computers so when I’m blabbering like an idiot on ecstasy, he’s able to decipher what I’m saying. I could try and say, “have you seen endgame?” But my brain that’s completely fried on 300mg of pure amphetamines will say, “wbefb obcwdweibc chcjkf” and he’ll be like. “nah man I’m not a fan of marvel movies” and its so ******** funny).
Anyway, i sent him 1500 messages. I went through every single human emotion on the spectrum in those messages; i was crying and begging him not to shoot up a school even though hes grown now, i was talking about being in love with him or some s**t, talking about my mental illness, my grandma, my life falling apart, I’m pretty sure this is when I accidentally called him ‘roger’ while panicking over the thought of him shooting up his school, whatever else i could fit into 1500 messages. And what did he do when he logged on and saw the mess i made like coming home and seeing your cat destroyed the living room while you were gone? He sat his a** right there for 4 ******** hours and actually scrolled to the top of those messages (which apparently took 30 minutes within itself), read them and screenshotted them to respond to them, then put the pics and responses in a file and sent them to me so i could read his responses to everything he said.
To this ******** day i cant doubt that I’m loved because someone who willingly sits there and not only reads but responds to the crazy s**t you said when trying a drug for the first time loves you and that’s that on that.

What else? My ex girlfriend killed herself. We never actually officially broke up, but her and i both fell into an extremely deep depression and isolated ourselves. Unfortunately i found out way too late that she ended her life. Her name was Alabama and she was so beautiful, funny, and just an all around amazing woman. I wish I could’ve saved her but I couldn’t. I don’t really blame myself but i still feel like if i was just able to at least talk to her more despite being depressed, then maybe shed still be here. I still have the playlists we made for each other. I’d like to print out a picture of her and frame it sometime. Maybe hand the images of both her and grace on the wall above my bed.

What else? My grandma gets sicker and sicker every year but is somehow miraculously still here. She’s currently in a nursing home and i was supposed to visit her but my mom threw a ******** fit over my appearance. She knows I’m majorly depressed and have zero energy to do anything, including visiting grandma for just an hour. I pulled myself somewhat together to go see her; i got dressed, shaved, but i had no energy to tame this ******** afro. White people have the privilege of taking any old comb and fixing their s**t real quick, not us. For me personally, i gotta find the one ‘good’ Afro pick/comb, then run my hair under the shower water to get my hair..... less nappy? Easier to comb through i guess. Then i gotta wring my hair out and dry it with a towel, apply leave in conditioner to style it and then I’m done. All of that just to achieve a basic Afro look. Anyone with depression on my level would understand that there’s no amount of energy in the world to go through that s**t, and apparently me choosing not to do my hair set my mom off. She kept demanding i go back in the house and fix my hair and, not about to go through all this bullshit just to see my grandma for an hour and come right back in my cave, i told her that if i go back in the house to fix my hair that I’m not coming back down and she can FaceTime me when she gets to grandmas. She still tried demanding me to do so and i had to remind her that I’m almost 19 years old and my depressed a** contributes to her rent every month and she cant get me to do s**t, so she needs to either back up or I’m not going, so here i am writing this in the comfort of my bed.
Damn I remember fighting with this woman every day when i was a younger teen. But now i retaliate cause I’m suicidal and nothing matters to me anymore. Like when i was younger i would of course have to obey and get terrified when shed scream at me and s**t, but now that i know better i started talking and fighting back, daring her to go through with her threats. She cant even threaten me anymore cause i always got a comeback that makes her even more angry. She’ll be like, “i bought you into this world and i’ll Take you right out!!!” And i’ll Be like, “well you better own it before i take us both out in the middle of the night one of these days” its honestly fun as ********... The Power....

Anyway. I guess that’s it. I might start writing in this journal again, who knows. Oh also, I’m brushing up on my German!! I think I’m doing pretty gut all things considered.