I don't really know what I'm interested in. I've been to some creative writing classes with my support worker but felt uncomfortable because I only really know how to write about my mental health and personal experiences. The organisation my support worker is from was supposed to be starting a creative writing group but it got cancelled for some reason. I've looked into evening classes but didn't connect with anything. Everything I can think of doing just seems dull and pointless.
The world is full of pain and the pain of people close to me (namely my brother) is because of me. I don't deserve to enter into another new year. If I survive the year I wonder what will have happened when I am reading my blog on 31st December 2018. I read back over previous years, I have gotten through them and wondered about the next year. Time will keep on passing. The moment of me writing this will be gone. I don't want to be a part of this painful world any more, I don't want to contribute more pain and I can't take any away (from my brother). I can't help him. If I can't help him then what reason is there for me to live?
Nothing positive can happen in 2018 and my soothing mechanisms of self harm and respite in hospital aren't going to be things that I can use very often, if at all, any more. The future is more hopeless than the past and the present.
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