When there's nothing left but your porcelain throne
What's going on, what's going on? That is the question. I have no idea. I feel like shit all the time. I have no reason for existing at the moment. My stomache hurts, I can't eat. Maybe that's a miracle. I'm sick with something, but what, I cannot tell. Or decide. God help me, I'm fucking up. I can feel it. Something's gotta give, I can't be alone with myself, with my thoughts, with my own sick guilt at being alive and doing nothing. So I live like the dead and pray that I'll find a way to crawl out before the light disappears.