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30.12.06
i dont want anybody to read this entry please.
so then.
why is everyone's heart set on making me feel even worse today.
so go on then, kiss me even if i just want to cry.
show me a picture of your ex's tits it's totally fine.
tell me off for wanting to get fucked.
call me a slut.
make fun of me.
hurt my throat.
i have realised im unhappy. i dont know i dont know. i just dont feel in control of myself anymore i feel like i am going through the motions in every aspect of my life. i feel like i felt when i was on so much codeine. just disconnected. something's stopping from doing everything i want to do.
an OH OH OH OH OH MY god.
what am i even doing to myself?
oh. i have fucked my whole life up havent i. for the sake of a few quid some drugs some rain some lies some dirty dancefloors.
i just fucking, i dont want to speak to you if ALL YOU CAN DO IS BE OK. I JUST WANT TO FUCKING DIE TODAY I WISH MY DREAM HAD SWALLOED ME UP AND SPIT ME OUT THE OTHER SIDE OF CONCIOUSNESS. I JUST WISH I DIDNT EVEN KNOW ANYBODY I DIDNT KNOW LOVE I DIDNT KNOW BOYS THESE BOYS WHO WERE ARE WILL BE IN LOVE WITH ME I JUST WANT THEM ALL TO FUCK OFF. IM SO ANGRY. IM SO SAD. I AM SO FUCKING FED UP OF HOW PATHETIC I AM HE IS THE OTHER HE IS. WHY IS EVERY SUBJECT IN MY LIFE SO FUCKING TRIVIAL. I MEAN, FUCK YOU NIETZSCHE - ITS UNAVOIDABLE because things do matter in relativity its just fucking boring.
FUCKING BORING MAN. all of everything bores me. i just want my own life back again. i dont want to have to traipse everywhere looking at dead squirrels and drinking coffee or riding buses or going out at night and pretending to be happy. i just want you all to leave me alone and let me do the things which make me feel sad if i dont do them.
like work and art and just OH I JUST AM SO TERRIBLE. what terrible hands terrible stomach terrible eyes i live inside. i say all this but i know i wont do it. i dont have the drive. i want drive more than anything more than even happiness or love or anything.
i want my ginger hair back. i want the summer back where all i did was draw and the pencil became my hand my hand became the paper my love was the lines i drew.
why now am i the one always being upset and stuff when usually i am the listener.
it is raining. and dark. oh pathetic fallacy.
i hate that smell of stew. it reminds me of the time i was sick.
whispered by killa b at 2:16 PM |
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