guilt.

 I was given such a beautiful dorm and went to so many beautiful places, but I just couldn't enjoy it. I cannot feel the joy. I feel like these precious resources were wasted on me.

Room which is even bigger than my living room at home.

View right outside my window. I am pretty sure it is one of the best out of so many people's. Sometimes birds wandered in the garden, curiously picking seeds off the ground. One time an orange cat happened to trot pass. I felt blessed to have been allocated this room, yet I still felt depressed. But thanks to the garden I didn't suicide as I would've ruin it.

I've been thinking if I'm suicidal in the "common" way of "I just want to stop the pain, I don't want to die", while that sometimes is correct, I think I actually want to die because I am just inducing inconvenience in every part of my life. If I'm not here, maybe someone else can enjoy the nice views more than me; if I'm not here, our tiny cramped home would become more spacious and livable; if I'm not here, my friends could spend more time with others instead of wasting time on me who seem to never recover; if I'm not here, Arthur would not need to put aside an hour every week to see me and listen to me who kept avoiding talking about the main issues and babbling nonsense; if I'm not here, my parents and school could save money rather than investing on a person who is not likely to graduate. I think we should ignore sunk costs and look at the future which is grim. Therefore I should cease to exist.

However some days I wake up ridiculed by the above nonsense, and be amazed by this thought process by my very own mind. But all these thoughts came from the same brain, so I was torn. I only had two full days not having suicidal ideation in the past four weeks from which I started counting. It's not like I can control these thought happening. They are involuntary, which made it so painful and annoying. I can't work when I have these thoughts as they consumed me, and when these thoughts finally give me a break, I just wanted to rest peacefully. How depressing it is if I choose to work rather than to rest when I am finally not suicidal.

Cora once told me (regarding my PTSD): "[Just like her friend who is battling cancer,] this time, the war is happening not in the body, but *points to own head* your mind."

How can I pay attention to work when my mind is in chaos?

But I have no time. In fact I already wasted a year. Taking a break from med and into psych, exchanging and going abroad did not offer me solace. Actually I knew it won't before departure. Because I am actually sick. Not like the normal person who can destress by simply going on a trip.

[Here's a completely radical mind speaking because I know sometimes I am clouded by negativity]: I think exchanging did improve the way I see the world and others, for example I interacted with my friends more and knew more about them, as well as becoming aware that I didn't actually know them that well, but it didn't impact my friendship with them. This changed my previous mindset of requiring myself to let them know me entirely and vice versa, and I am not anxious in meeting old and new friends or over-guessing people's every single action anymore. This also saved me a lot of mental energy that I wasn't aware I was using previously. Another point is I did have more brand new experiences like paragliding, riding camels and watching shooting stars etc. which are really cool (although I kept contemplating about dying, questioning about what's the point of experiencing all these and being suicidal the whole trip). But nevertheless I did experience them and knew how these activities feel like. (Though I don't know how I feel. I was numb.)

Yeah. But therapy is recommencing the coming Monday so I didn't do anything reckless this week. Or else I would really be wasting one and a half hour of Arthur's time and a potential client's who might need it more.