no name
Ad 2:
2022-01-21 00:28:32 (UTC)


The thing that requires the least effort but is something I’m worst at, is sleeping. Best way to pass time and not be present. But I can’t get myself to do it.

Before I used to have escapes. Reading. Music. Crying. Lying in bed. Thinking. But now it’s all stifling. And another thing to get my mind to think. And keep on thinking. It’s starts with boredom, to get my mind to get thinking. So I can’t lie down to sleep. I can’t read something boring. Distracting myself still leaves me to wander, mentally. And think about myself. About the future. I don’t even want to be alive for that. My eyes are tired. My body feels disgusting. Looking at my own hands is bad too. Too fudging thick. Everything is too big and too heavy. The weight of my actions, my bleak future, and my own mind. I just want to shoot my brains out just to have a moment of clarity, or the opposite I guess since all this thinking is keeping me aware, but not aware enough to make the right decisions.

There isn’t an escape for myself. I don’t even know why I think. Why I hear my own voice in my head. Why I can’t stop myself from talking why it’s normal and why I can’t just let myself feel ignorant and blissfully unaware of myself and my body and the way I could possibly be perceived. I can’t stop it. I can’t stop feeling. Can’t stop how unnerved I feel in the presence of others. Can’t stop the attitude that bubbles up out of nowhere when I have to deal with people.

I wish I could vomit up all my thoughts and fat so I could leave myself empty and clean. Not here. I wish I weren’t so repetitive. I wish I couldn’t think. I wish I were dead. I wish I no longer had the ability to think myself disgusting or be disgusting. I wish I had a better body. I wish I were more committed to fixing it because this is my fault, genes don’t force you to eat for no reason. I wish I’d stop wishing.

I want to go away from here. Away from myself. Away from this body and this bed. Away from this shared bedroom and away from that school. I remember during lunch all I could think about was going home. But now I’m here and I still don’t feel good. Why is it that I waste every single moment of my life like this? Why don’t I ever use it correctly? Why am I always focused on the wrong things? Why do I always do the wrong thing? Why do I think? I feel like a waste of life. Money. Time. And love.

How did I get here and how do I get out of it?

Could I possibly forget? Forget how to think. Forget how to care. Forget to react. Forget to worry. Could I lose myself in something? Maybe games. Maybe reading. Maybe writing. Maybe routines. Wake up. Shower. Get ready. Sit and wait? Sit and listen to music? Boring. So boring that I might start thinking and try something meaningless. I’ll just play. Music. Ride. Sit and read. Class. Notes. Class. Lunch—fast, music, nap. Class. Music. Read. Home. Homework. Teeth. Sleep.
Saturdays? Guess I’ll die.
Sleep. Sleep. Sleep. Bathroom. Sleep. Sleep. Pretend to be dead. Read. Sleep.

Sometimes I wish I had a personal computer again like before when I would do those quizzes and watch tv for hours on end without getting bored of it really. But then I remember that I did once get that chance a bit ago and it was nothing like before. I wasn’t entertained. Didn’t get any sort of happiness from it. I can’t return to the past. It won’t come back to me. Not the happiness I had when I was way younger. Or the content I had during previous years. I have nothing. Again.