that someone would talk to me who isn’t paid to care.
I don’t want meds. They don’t do shit but dim the feelings. Everything still lurks underneath. Everyone still avoids me. I am still a cancerous disease, unfit for this world. Too awkward, too sensitive, too dark, too talkative, too reactive. Meds don’t change shut and they always eventually stop working. It’s such a stupid fucking dance.
I want a real friend who isn’t afraid of me.
I have none.
Every cell in my body is wired to malfunction.
Vodka and sleeping pills when I get paid this Friday. Till then I’m just entertaining the motions.