A/N: Even if you never have before, FOR ONCE IN YOUR LIFE READ AN AUTHOR'S NOTE. No, like, seriously, this is important. If you don't you'll be very confused.

So, like I said last chapter, the things that happen with Hiro emotionally will largely be based on stuff that has happened to me. This chapter was also written when I was supposed to be writing a paper (about a month after I started the first chapter and before the first chapter was even finished, lol) when I was stressed over said stupid paper (grade percentages in this chapter are actually what my paper was worth for the class)...

Every once in a while chapters like this will pop up, formatted as a journal entry. Every time there is one, the title of the chapter will simply be 'Confession,' probably with a number after it. I don't know yet if I'll do the other characters, so for now assume that it's always going to Hiro because nowhere in the chapter is the writer specified (obviously, because it's a journal...). If I do end up writing them for other characters (which may well happen), I will specify in an A/N.

Fact of the matter is, I think stuff like this is important. It doesn't tell you much about where the story is going, but it DOES give a lot of information that would be difficult to include in any other way. Some of the stuff here might seem odd, but let's face it: anxiety has any number of odd triggers, and Hiro is no exception. And anxiety coupled with depression is dangerous. What appears to be one, simple thing for one person can send an anxious depressed person completely over the edge. (Believe me; I would know because, yes, this is written from personal experience.)

Also, do note that this is largely unedited. I have changed very little aside from adding times since there are two sections that were written at different times. Keeping that in mind, the grammar of this chapter is pretty loose because when you're writing your thoughts out with the purpose of just getting them out so they aren't in your head anymore you don't really worry much about how grammatically correct your sentences are. So, yes, I am aware of run-on sentences and one sentence that didn't even make sense to me as I read this over again. That's on purpose.

A few reviewers have also given me permission to make it as dark as I please, so if you disagree, now would be the time to say something before I get much further in, lol. (Though, it'll probably stay in the more moderate range honestly.)
ALSO. While I may well delve into self-injury, I will NOT being going so far as suicide, aside from the odd comment here and there, like the ones in this chapter.

Phew! *wipes sweat from brow* Thanks for reading all of that...makes my life easier when I don't get a bunch of reviews all questioning the same things so... (Although, that being said, don't be afraid to ask questions, lol.) I will never again have a note this long. I promise!

Honestly, I had my reservations about writing a chapter in this format, so it would be huge help to hear what you guys think. If a bunch of people are like, 'This is really weird' then I won't do it anymore (and that opinion honestly won't offend me, so please be honest).

WARNINGS: Depression; Anxiety; Brief Thoughts of Death/Suicide

Confession: What's Inside My Head

[1:41 PM]

I thought about the fact that maybe I'd actually feel better if I got my thoughts down in writing right now but now that I'm staring at a Word document, I just can't. Funny how that works, since my mind has been racing for the last 40 minutes, and it won't shut up long enough for me to write my stupid paper for my stupid class that's due tomorrow that I only have a page and half out of five done for because really all these unwanted thoughts started creeping in after dinner last night. I guess I should count it as a good thing that I even have that much done, all things considered.

I hate days like this, where my mind just won't shut up. I want to stop thinking, but no. It seems like every single little thing I've done wrong or messed up on comes back to mind and those thoughts just won't go away…

Everything's wrong and you just don't know why. It occurred to me to write it down in the first place; I wonder if it's moods like this when authors write the scenes that really tear you apart emotionally because this really feels like it could be something out of a novel sometimes. But then you start to think about it – really think about it – and you realize it's true because authors love to torture characters. But then you realize that this isn't fiction – it's really your life, and unlike novels that always has a happy ending (usually, anyway – there are those people who are truly sadistic, but even in the event of successful suicide it's what the character wanted so it still turns out the way it's supposed to) your life just…doesn't. It's real, and it's still going, and nothing is getting better. You think if this is a novel, then things have to start getting better soon because you've hit rock bottom, but it never does. Because this isn't fake. It's your life. And you can't just write in a happy ending where there isn't one.

And you're so tired of wearing that mask every day of being fine, and you're sick of pretending to always be fine when in reality you just want to cry, and you don't know how much longer you can do this before you just…give up. And you want to give up so freaking badly, but for some reason you can't do that either. But it hurts. Everything hurts, and you can't make it stop, and no one can make it stop, so you just keep on going pretending that everything is okay when you just want to curl up in a ball and sleep so you don't have to think for a while. But you can't. Because people will ask if you're okay, and you really don't want to answer that because you know you'll just lie because you can't tell them the truth. That would require taking off the mask, and you can't do that. You just can't. So you just keep faking it, and nothing hurts more than faking it. All faking it does is make your heart hurt more. But people have come to expect you to be happy all the time, or at least cheery, but not…stuck at rock bottom…and you can't disappoint them. If they knew how much you struggled sometimes….

And all those thoughts continue to haunt you, swirling around and around and they won't shut it, and you can't think about anything else, and it's mind-numbing but it just makes your heart hurt even more. Despair creeps in, and you can't move, and your heart hurts, and you brain is numb, and you can't even breathe anymore. You wonder if it'll ever completely go away, and then the realization sinks in that no, it won't, you're stuck with it because it's probably your own fault you ended up this way.

After all, no life is a mistake. You've heard that phrase a million times, and it used to comfort you a little. But not really anymore because you've realized that while maybe your existence isn't a mistake, you sure do make a lot of mistakes yourself. You make a lot of them. So since you're starting to wonder if your life is still worth living, it must be your own fault you feel that way because all of the mistakes you've made have put you this position, in this mindset you can't escape.

By now you really just wish your brain would shut up so you can finish the five-page paper that's due tomorrow…because if you don't get it done that's just one more thing to add to your always-growing list of everything you've made a mess of, because not getting this paper done on time will result in a minimum of a 7% reduction in your over-all grade for the course, and if you don't get it done on time, what's the point? (But if you don't turn it in at all, your grade will be reduced by 15% and, Lord knows, you can't afford that, but if it's not done on time, what's the point? You'll have even less motivation to ever get it done because you didn't get it done by the due date, and that'll just be even more to add to your ever-growing list of failures.)

But you can't help it. It hurts. So much. When you feel like people don't want you around… (not that it has so much to do with them as it does you…) But you start to think people don't want you around by how they act and talk (or don't talk), and it only adds fuel to the fire. Did you do something wrong? Was it something you said? You felt like you were really starting to get to know them and become friends, but now it doesn't seem like they want you around.

And then you're thoughts have come full circle, because you can't think of anything original, and that's just how your mind works when you hit rock bottom because all you can think about over and over again is how much of a mess-up you are and why you're even here because you really aren't contributing anything to the world and maybe it would be better if you were just…gone. And that's the thought that hurts the most. Because who would actually miss you? Yeah, there might be a few people – family, maybe – but the world would be a much better place without having to look out for you because you have no defined purpose in life, unlike everyone around you who have always known what they were going to with their lives.

You have no purpose, and nothing is ever getting better, and you're tired of hiding, but you can't let go.

[10:17 PM]

That overwhelming feeling of not being able to breathe hits at exactly the worst possible moments. It's late, you just want to sleep, but instead you're still up, still trying to finish that paper because you really can't afford to have your grade in the class reduced by so much, but then you realize just how much of the grade depends on the length and you know you won't ever be able to get the whole five pages before it's due. It's not the first time you've ever felt this; oh, no! You know it all too well. And anxiety and panic just make it that much more difficult to think and to focus and to get your paper done. Ironic isn't it? The very thing causing you stress is the thing the stress is keeping you from getting done so you don't have to stress about it any longer. You can't think, and you can't focus on much of anything outside of just trying to figure out how to breathe.

There's an iron fist closing over your lungs, and the deeper you try to breathe the tighter that fist closes around you.

It's overwhelming and horrid, and you're tired and you just want to sleep it off but you can't because that paper is still sitting there in your Word processor waiting to be finished. And all you really want is for the world to stop for five minutes so you can just think.

Or maybe a hug…

But you know you won't be getting either of them.