Sundry journal entries

Some journal entry excerpts I found and liked. Enjoy. Sorry if they're a bit depressing, I was really shot for almost half a year.

They're all true.

2/12/08
I snarled, my stomach curling in anger. Swirling emotions whirled through my head, driving away all sanity. My back was hunched and my eyes glinted as fury took over me, broke me. I wanted to strike out, to rip, tear, rend, break, smash, destroy. I wanted to sink my teeth into an orange peel, feel the slight pressure of the rind press back and the sheer triumph as it broke beneath my fangs.
My teeth clenched as I started to breathe more heavily, livid. Bruxism, a voice in my head defined. I tried to shut it out, grinding my canines so they would sharpen. I was trembling with fury. Just shut up for once, would you?
Denial, the voice said. Insanity. Madness, obsession, lust, greed, want, jealousy, anger, self-doubt. Deadly sins, many of them.
I don't care.
Love? I think not.

1/19/08
Nights are the worst. Nights, the dreams I once longed for, to end the dreary evening, spend the interminable night, just to see him, be with him again, my salvation. My demise. Nights provide no distractions, let my aching mind produce heartbreaking dreams which turn into memories of times never to be had again. My wits escape me during the night, leaving me vulnerable to any errant reminisce that wanders through. Nights. They are endless, torturous.

(skipping a lot... I just like this next bit)
I am under constant surveillance, unable to betray even the slightest emotion for fear it will bring hatred against the one I love.

( Oh, good times.)

1/30/08
When you spend your life screaming, how will you hear the bells?

2/13/08
I feel sick.
It will have been a month of torture on Sunday. One month. I didn't think it was mentally possible to take this kind of self-abuse. And I wonder - how does the rest of the world see me? Does my mask fit? Moaning in terror, fear, anger, & depression. It's a wonder I haven't broken anything.

2/28/08
Not that I would ever admit this out loud, but I am a little nervous about tomorrow. I feel like a Roman gladiatorial slave, knowing that tomorrow she will be thrown to the lions with no defense. And yet, there is that glimmer of cruel hope, dangling tantalizingly.
I fear nothing. Nothing. I've never experienced it, true terror, so it is not in my emotional vocabulary. Detached calmness is usually my response.

4/2/08
I don't remember how I passed off that empty void as a life.
How did I live?
I don't remember at all.
I've...
I've lost myself. What is wrong with me? I honestly can't remember how I lived...
...
......
I'm not myself anymore. Was I ever? I'm but a collection of thoughts from other people.
Who am I now?