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.