I waste this much for Drugs.
My Mind is on 100 when I wake up. The Fight/Flight* or rather, get away, love somebody or get lost in People desire is controlling me. I feel addicted, but only when I smoke cigarettes. I do not want this. But, I can not find joy in these People. I miss the People I like, I can not reach them ever. Therapy is hopeless, the strangers, the talks do not satisfy me. The point where I like to stay in a Jail is reached. I would kill if I should. My aches are very hideous, I can not make them out no more, but any doctor I met is unable to this already for a very long time. This is not me I live, this is too surreal.
I think, I am a Dead Project. This Human is made to rot, rotten, rotten more.