wasted attire.
now it hits me. my head feels like its going to pop. like i have an elastic band around my neck. my heart has sunken to the pit of my stomach and is being just fucking eaten up by various acids. my body feels limp. i'm too devastated to cry. i sit here in this tiny stuffy hot dark room feeling utterly alone and just so fucking sad. this feeling is just eating me up and i'm going to go nuts.
mother dearest sits in the other room with her bottle of scotch yelling at me about my music and other pointless meaningless things. which is so just fucking pushing me. and now my head is starting to throb and my eyes are getting hot.
semi dressed up. had to go to elle house to see her parents and some friends and organise things. organise things. it's like oh she's died, let's just pack her up and stick her in the ground and move on. apparently she wrote a note (so now we know it was a suicide. no fucking accident.) we weren't allowed to see it but apparently she wants me to speak at her funeral. it makes me so.. i don't know. it just makes me want to cry that someone thought of me as they were writing their last words (wait, that's the second person huh).
i need to get out of this fucking house. i'm just gonna go. how typical of me to yet again run away from my problems. so i'm going to go out into the night. into the wet and the cold where i'll inevitably feel even more alone and lost. in this pathetic scruffy suit. i need someone to ..i don't know. hold me. yes.
i think i'll go to lara's house. she'll be busy but i'll just curl up in the corner. and i'll feel better at least knowing someone is there. might be thinking about me.
fuck shit fuck fuck shit marianne kerrie krys karo i need you.
mother dearest sits in the other room with her bottle of scotch yelling at me about my music and other pointless meaningless things. which is so just fucking pushing me. and now my head is starting to throb and my eyes are getting hot.
semi dressed up. had to go to elle house to see her parents and some friends and organise things. organise things. it's like oh she's died, let's just pack her up and stick her in the ground and move on. apparently she wrote a note (so now we know it was a suicide. no fucking accident.) we weren't allowed to see it but apparently she wants me to speak at her funeral. it makes me so.. i don't know. it just makes me want to cry that someone thought of me as they were writing their last words (wait, that's the second person huh).
i need to get out of this fucking house. i'm just gonna go. how typical of me to yet again run away from my problems. so i'm going to go out into the night. into the wet and the cold where i'll inevitably feel even more alone and lost. in this pathetic scruffy suit. i need someone to ..i don't know. hold me. yes.
i think i'll go to lara's house. she'll be busy but i'll just curl up in the corner. and i'll feel better at least knowing someone is there. might be thinking about me.
fuck shit fuck fuck shit marianne kerrie krys karo i need you.