I don’t know. I don’t know why I do anything. I hardly ever eat, when I do it’s not because I’m hungry. I’m bored, I’m angry, I’m sick. I feel like I’m going to be sick, but I just keep eating this shitty angel delight. It tastes like fucking vomit. But maybe that’s because the smell of vomit is lingering in the air. Yeah, I vomited on the floor yesterday, I don’t know what fucking happened. I didn’t even clean it up for an hour. I just let it sit there whilst I listening to Joy Division. Some of it is still there.
I’m a walking contradiction. I have all of the motivation in the world. I’m finally doing those English essays, I got a freaking job, I’m doing shit for the first time in forever. Yet I cut deeper than ever, I’m fucking miserable. I don’t know. I don’t care. I can’t even cry anymore. I’m just angry; always angry, and afraid.
Fuck it.
4 comments
Everyone tells me they wish they had the life I have. It doesn’t help though, I still feel miserable. I don’t understand them.
The appearance of the outer shell can be deceiving, or maybe it’s a case of the grass is always green on the other side. For everyone, a change from the mind numbing, mundane every day life would be appealing, whether it be destructive or not. Can’t blame them for wanting something they know nothing about, because ignorance is bliss. Unfortunately for us, there is no such thing as ignorance.
You’re right, 3. I guess I missed that. Thank you for answering that question.
I ordered an expensive dinner yesterday because of my lack of appetite. I thought i would enjoy it. Nope. Someone else said it was SO good but i tasted dry cardboard and barf.