ABCD…KLMNOP

This isn’t going to be a good post (they hardly ever are, but wth ). Just thought that I should force myself to write something. Anything. Whatever. Just write it. Get the shitzticles out of my system and stuff, you know how that is.

Writing. Words. Things with letters in them. I dunno. I haven’t been mindlessly spewing out my usual demented barrage of words in a long time – not on here, not in my journal, not even in my little black book of assorted jellybeans.

It’s hard to put into words… the… idiocy of the tsunami of emotions I’ve been surfing on lately.

I’m so weary I can’t even handle idle chit chat about the weather or contemplate my navel. What the fuck’s gotten into me… I’m going about everything as this weepy wreck with unkempt uncombed hair and nice shoes. I find that for the last two weeks, I’m always this[]close to sobbing my head open. Sobsobsob cry crycry and it gets me nowhere and I fall apart and I cry somemore and I sit under a scalding hot shower and contemplate EVERYfuckingthing that makes me cry and I cry harder and it falls in pitterpatters and I wonder how come my shavers come in a fucking cartridge and I cry until I pass out and come to, cold, wrinkly and the bathrooms completely fogged up and I wearily drag myself up and out and onto my bed where I lie for hours in a fetal position until my ear aches and burns from staying in that one position for an impossibly long time. stopitstopitstopitstopit I tell myself, I keep telling myself stopthisstopstopthis and it doesn’t stop and fucking hell do you think I’m losing it big time, yes I think I am this is as bad as it gets maybe?

Fuck the lack of fucking punctuation and fucking grammar. I can’t be fucking arsed anymore. Can’t you tell?

It hurtshurtshurtshurtshurts HURTS so fucking bad and jesuschrist I just cannot take it anymore. I brought it on myself. STUPID.

I’ve been drinking again. Not much and it makes things worse of course, duh. I just want to stay in a permanent passed out state. But it’s stupid. Drink into a fucking stupor. Pass out. Wake up two hours later. Cry and cry and cry and think about the D-word (I don’t want to say it out loud… bad enough I’ve been losing friends intermittently because of my so-called self-destructive behaviour and negativity and morbid thoughts) and then cry til I pass out again.

Please don’t make any comments on how tired, shitty, crazed I look when you see me. I know. I have mirrors.

I was thinking of having a girls night out tonight… make an effort, dress up and go dancing and people watching. I was really up for it at first but now I’m not and I’d like to just go home and spend the weekend bedridden and hidden and gone.

This post was, is a fucking waste of kilobytes.