LustingforNightmares

tumbleweed
2015-02-02 19:25:48 (UTC)

I Need To Shut Up


6:25 PM

Why do I ever think, "hey, you know what's a good idea? Re-reading your entries."

NO. NO, FUTURE SELF, STOP READING THIS NOW, IT'S A VERY, VERY TERRIBLE IDEA. IT IS HUMILIATING. DO YOU REALIZE HOW ANNOYING YOU ARE? DO YOU? YOU ARE VERY ANNOYING.

YOU NEVER STOP TALKING ABOUT YOURSELF AND HOW YOU FUCKING CRY AT NIGHT OR WHATEVER.

YOU MIGHT BE THINKING, "Laugh, laugh. Crying at night? That must've been so long ago. Who cares, right? I must be less obnoxious by now."

Ha. Haaaahahahaha. HAAAAAhahaha. You're wrong. That was maybe, at the most, three months ago. I know for A FACT that I still write about that bullshit. Yes, future self, I know we have our excuses.

1. I haven't gotten over those issues because I have a phobia of sharing serious feelings which has inhibited my ability to get over them.

2. I have an anxiety disorder, of fucking COURSE I cry at night.

But??? Even if that's true, why the hell do you write about it so much? It's not beautiful or even interesting. It's just irritating and, for me, embarrassing.

Ughhh, stop sharing feelings. STOP. It's horrible to read, oh my god. Not only is it cheesy, but it's depressing. I'm such a melodramatic person.

People have said before that I am pretty mature but I feel like if they read this diary, they'd be all, "Hell nope." Oh god, if anyone else tried forcing this reality check upon me, I would cry but I'm allowed to be mean to myself (it's inevitable).

 
QUICK UNRELATED NOTE: The name Boris is fucking awesome. Boris can either be, like, a hardcore gangster or a gangly kid who doesn't speak much. Such a cool name.


QUICK UPDATE ON MY FEELINGS (because who cares for details?): I feel better than I did yesterday, but still really shitty.

QUICK UPDATE ON HOW MY BODY IS DOING: PRETTY TERRIBLE, MOTHERFUCKERS. It's still being mean. It sleeps too much and it's always hurting and it's always tired. Ughhhhhh. Fuck bodies, fuck physical existence. Why can't I just be some strange, transient cloud of mist that is self-aware??? Why the hell do I need to lug around this chunky thing that people call my body?

Evolution fucked up. Obviously, it'd be better if we didn't have body parts to damage. Being alive is such a liability.

I still feel like I'm melting. Why is that feeling so constant? Maybe I produce too much stomach acid (this one girl once told me she could never forget the name of stomach acid, which is hydrochloric acid, and since she told me that, I can't forget it either) and that acid is seeping through my stomach lining and making its way to my skin, dissolving it. Skin cells desperately holding onto one another, trying to keep all the heavy on the inside.

Alright, here is the thing: I can't take myself seriously. Or maybe my problem is the opposite. Maybe I take myself too seriously. I may need to relax.

I'm not actually angry that my thoughts are stupid and repetitive. I guess it's human. I wish, half-heartedly, that I was better than that but I suppose I can't change anything.

WHAT IF THE BRAIN IS THE FOURTH DIMENSION???????

Okay, bye.




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