current obsession» nothing
feeling» like crying some more and throwing up my insides
listening to» "all of this" ~ blink 182, robert smith
currently irritated by» everything
currently addicted to» absolutely nothing
randomness» nothing is random about fate
I don't even know why I'm even like this right now. The first thing I did when I woke up was cry my sorry little eyes out. I'm tired of everything... and I'm so lonely. I just don't know why I'm getting this way again. I have this sick feeling in my stomach... like something's not quite right, and I just keep crying.
I can't even eat. I don't want anything. I don't want to do anything except go somewhere and breathe in some fresh air. I never go anywhere. I never do anything. I want to just go somewhere and sit by my lonesome little self and be stupid and just cry, cry, cry until I get this sick feeling to go away.
Too many bad dreams, all about the same thing, all repeating, all making me cry. Too many of these feelings. I know something's wrong. And if nothing's wrong, then something is going to go wrong; I just know it.
2 comments:
To be a upright human being is to procure a amiable of openness to the world, an cleverness to group unsure things beyond your own control, that can govern you to be shattered in uncommonly outermost circumstances pro which you were not to blame. That says something uncommonly outstanding with the fettle of the principled autobiography: that it is based on a corporation in the uncertain and on a willingness to be exposed; it's based on being more like a plant than like a treasure, something rather feeble, but whose extremely precise attractiveness is inseparable from that fragility.
Advice in old age is foolish; for what can be more absurd than to increase our provisions for the road the nearer we approach to our journey's end.
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