Isn’t it funny, how one of the first good days I’ve had in weeks, turns out to be one of the worst?
Isn’t it funny, how the people around me seem perfectly nice, happy, friendly; and all I want to do is shoot them all in the fucking head? (Swearing, yes.)
Isn’t it funny, how I fall asleep hoping I won’t wake up, and feel disappointed when I do?
…
Well, not really.
But isn’t it funny, how I can’t take this much longer?
So much I haven’t told you. So much I can’t, won’t tell you. Can’t put the words on paper. Won’t think of it for too long. It’s better that way -- for everybody.
Melodrama? No. Not this time, no.
Poor coping skills? Perhaps.
Isolation?
Oh, without a doubt.
Isn’t it funny, how I’m saying all this, when my inability to express how I’m feeling got me into this mess?

Yeah, that one’s funny.