And out of the hundreds of you cunts on here not one of you gives the slightest fuck I’m about to off myself, fuck you all
I told my best friend about how depressed I am and how I tried to kill myself the other day and I’m crying more than I ever have in my life because he’s being understanding.
I’m Beijing someone else every day but I haven’t found one I like yet
My days keep getting weirder what the fuck
What I remember about last night was good. Met up with lex, can’t recall what we did then, oh right we wanted to see a movie but I smoked like 5 cigarettes before we went in and ended up missing the starting time.
After that I think we meant a busker playing guitar in a rabbit suit and a started talking to him, he asked us to mind his stuff while he took a piss and ended up buying us free alcohol,
I was already pretty high so the alcohol kind of fucked me up, after that I don’t know, I think we sat at crown and got drunk and random people gave us pot so we smoked and I took more Valium and then I don’t remember.
I think we came back to mine and got totally fucked and I passed in and out for 17 hours, I’m assuming me and lex shared my pills cause every time I woke up the house was spinning so crazily and I couldn’t even stand up without collapsing.
What in the fuck even happened last night
The what ifs are killing me slowly.
What if I saved more last year instead of spending on things I never needed?
What if I came earlier, what if I got help years ago, so I was entirely better now, assuming that would have even fixed me. What if I never said that or got like that did that. What if what if what if.
Well, it would probably be the same, but living so internally I can’t help but what if. And with an imagination that never turns itself of, I’m stuck walking the streets of Melbourne at 8PM in the cold saying, what if. What if that was you, what if you were beside me right now.
Oh, what can you do?
Nothing, that’s right, absolutely nothing and it’s killing you, or much rather me, which person am I talking through? First, third? Seventh? Is it me or is it someone I’ll just pretend to be while strolling around tonight?
And poetry, oh, poetry. I read and I love, and I read every single line and think exactly the same. Circumstances not entirely, but I can read every line as if I wrote it too.
And what about tonight? What will happen tonight? So many things I’ve done in the last week that aren’t me at all, and yet I’m being a new person every day doing new things that I’d never imagine so.
Why? Whywhywhy I scream inside. I don’t understand at all, and I can’t even think right. Walking the streets I know exactly what to write, but here sitting in a sad little Asian run Internet cafe I’m at a loss for everything, what did I even want to say? What’s the point of saying anything anyway. Maybe I’ll write again with liquid courage, or perhaps the pills will fuck me stupid and I’ll struggle to get home.
I don’t even know, I know nothing and I feel everything. I wander Melbourne almost daily to lose myself in the crowds, I feel almost at ease pushing my way through crowds, they don’t know how fucked I am, and maybe that helps me to forget how fucked I am too. I was going to call it quits Wednesday, but I stupidly did something else instead. Or not stupidly, who can even tell?
I’m thinking about getting admitted, I’ve been looking up wards and trying to find something acceptable. But I’m at such a loss and I just don’t know. It sucks to be alone again, with Alexcia away for a week this week has been hell. I’ll talk to her tonight about getting admitted, because I think I may hurt myself. I was going to write I’m scared I may hurt myself, but I’m entirely not.
So now there’s no one left and I’m all alone
- Unknown (via deanspanties)
Things just keep getting more fucked.