Am I done throwing a tantrum?

Guess I am.

Corsica is a lot more than I expected. I don't seem to be able to handle it on my own...

Have I said so already?... It's a fucking lonely place to feel lonely at...
I don't think there's anywhere on Earth you'd be able to feel this nothingness.

I've spent months in my room. And now, you can't just call that depression. No, sir. You'd be lucky to feel 'just' depressed here, to find something interesting to do here. Interesting or uninteresting? Anything at all???

Oh my god.

I finally finally finally have the guts to write online and I seriously seriously seriously have nothing to say...

The village is beautiful, teaubivul, feautibul... Corsica is so damn teaufutul...

I can't stand it anymore.

I rather sell myself somewhere else.

No one will ever know just how deep my longing goes. I so long to be away... this isn't a place for me... this is punishment. Self-inflicted punishment. And every time I see how beautiful it is, this sea, these snowy mountaintops, I cringe.

I slowly, oh so very slowly, I feel myself dying every other second.
Just how much can someone take? Of unrequited love? Kami, is it just a superficial infatuation-kind-of love??

Definitely, I tired it. Gods, I've tried it. Corsica is just Corsica. Corsica can't love me back, Corsica can't like me back.

I haven't been able to speak to ONE person out of personal interests since I've been here.

It's been six months since I last talked to someone who held the same interests as I do. Or close to my own points of view.

Every silent night makes me sweat like it's the last night of my life. Silence, I can't handle it. Life in a mountain? I wake up at night petrified. And once I'm up all I can do to fill up my emptiness is eat.

I've been having these anxiety attacks ever since winter hit these parts of the world.

And if I don't get out of Corsica I'll die. I'll die long before summer arrives.

You'd think a pretty snowy hill is pretty... well I'll say, a pretty snowy hill just makes it a lot worse.

There's two rivers flowing past Corte.

I've thought about throwing myself into them, individually, one at a time. If not Restonica, then Tavignanu... I've woken up still dreaming about waking up at the hospital after being thrown into the river.

And I'm not myself anymore...

Whoever I was, back in China, is completely gone. There's no curiosity, there's no expectancy... I'm just here, and if I remain, I'll seriously die. I'll die.