God, if only I could get my hands on a gun. The whole world would be in the palm of my fucking hands for about an hour and just how much pleasure I would find in that. And then I would be able to blow my fucking brains out. Happy ending for all.
& This is the only test I would probably easily pass.
Mötley Crüe - Girls, Girls, Girls
La Dispute - Andria
Guess what drug I got into again?
Juuuuuuust kidding. Came up on bars, though.
My random panic attacks have been better though. Big whoop.
But THC will always be in my heart.
(Finally actual pictures of my life have resurfaced)
"I wanted the whole world or nothing."
-Charles Bukowski
You have been on my mind quite a bit lately.
I talk too fucking much and I think it's a problem. If only there were some sort of drug to shut me the fuck up. No one wants to hear about my goddamn sob story and neither do I.
I'm learning to tune myself out and maybe everybody else should too; if they already fucking haven't.
You have a serious problem of distorting reality. You could sleep with the entire planet and still feel rejected.
-The Science of Sleep
"There is a certain clinical satisfaction in seeing just how bad things can get."
-Sylvia Plath
I don't know, Sylvia. How can you know so much more about my life than I do? You just may be my spirit animal.
"Blessed are the forgetful:
For they get the better even of their blunders."
-Friedrich Nietzcsche
The quote goes, "How happy is the blameless vestel's lot! The world forgetting, by the world forgot. Eternal sunshine of the spotless mind! Each prayer accepted, and each resigned." And here I am taking a bar by myself just to make myself feel better. And to forget, to forget, to forget.
Fuck you. Seriously, fuck you for doing that to me. You are a repulsive human being and I will never understand how you were in the right fucking mind to do that to me. I don't care what you say. I don't care how fucked up we were.
Fuck you. Fuck you. Fuck you.
I can't seem to leave my house anymore because I don't want anyone to stare at my face. Maybe I should go anorexic. It's always been a life-long dream. After tomorrow's dinner.
Rubbing alcohol makes things puff up. It's rad as fuck.
Twenty-one years of life and this is all I really have to say:
P.S. I promise to quit blogging about my bullshit life. I should start blogging about important things. If that even fucking matter.
