tl;dr i am a giant pool of negative feelings and i want to die in my sleep
Poetry
the ruin of small things
I want war. And riots. And everything to end. I want North Korea to nuke America. I want Russia to go apeshit and invade Europe. I want the disaffected and miserable in the UK to rise up and eat the fucking rich. I want everything to go more and more wrong until there is NOTHING LEFT. I want something that fits the way I feel. I want to crawl out of my skin and leave it to dry up on a beach somewhere and take my naked flesh and roll in a fire until I'm a huge human cinder and something finally feels the way it ought to.
It's possible that being in pain all the time (again, with even less reason than before) is making me crazy. I'm not sure the cause matters. I want to leave everyone before they can leave me. I Want to stop dragging my feet and either take off or stamp my way down to the centre of the earth to die. Either I hole up and read and don't talk to anyone at all and fuck their sadness, or I rage myself into alienating everyone anyway.
Weeks and weeks of feeling like someone is drilling into my temples. Not blinding pain, nothing that justifies painkillers, just this nagging squeezing drilling feeling. On and on and on. I really do not like the quiet.
Tomorrow I'm going to Camden with Nny to pretend I'm in Blade Runner and look for stuff and generally be alive somewhere outside of my flat, so I don't have to keep swirling around and around in a whirlpool of self-hatred about the writing I don't do and the things I am fucking up.
I hate being alive. There are these bright spots which are real life interaction with people I love and then there is everything else and I feel that "everything else" should be merely "a drudge but something you do anyway" like work or chores or something but in actual fact it's sinuses full of hot sand and buckets of hatred and niggling nagging misery pouring out of people into my eyes and the constant bloody reminder that I DON'T EVER DO ANYTHING PEOPLE WANT. That I have no worth. Nothing I do is ... not even "good enough", it's not even worth disdaining, it's just invisible. And I don't hate people for their successes right now, of my friends and acquaintances, I just hate my own unremitting failure, and the fact that the more I fail the less I even want to try.
the ruin of small things
I want war. And riots. And everything to end. I want North Korea to nuke America. I want Russia to go apeshit and invade Europe. I want the disaffected and miserable in the UK to rise up and eat the fucking rich. I want everything to go more and more wrong until there is NOTHING LEFT. I want something that fits the way I feel. I want to crawl out of my skin and leave it to dry up on a beach somewhere and take my naked flesh and roll in a fire until I'm a huge human cinder and something finally feels the way it ought to.
It's possible that being in pain all the time (again, with even less reason than before) is making me crazy. I'm not sure the cause matters. I want to leave everyone before they can leave me. I Want to stop dragging my feet and either take off or stamp my way down to the centre of the earth to die. Either I hole up and read and don't talk to anyone at all and fuck their sadness, or I rage myself into alienating everyone anyway.
Weeks and weeks of feeling like someone is drilling into my temples. Not blinding pain, nothing that justifies painkillers, just this nagging squeezing drilling feeling. On and on and on. I really do not like the quiet.
Tomorrow I'm going to Camden with Nny to pretend I'm in Blade Runner and look for stuff and generally be alive somewhere outside of my flat, so I don't have to keep swirling around and around in a whirlpool of self-hatred about the writing I don't do and the things I am fucking up.
I hate being alive. There are these bright spots which are real life interaction with people I love and then there is everything else and I feel that "everything else" should be merely "a drudge but something you do anyway" like work or chores or something but in actual fact it's sinuses full of hot sand and buckets of hatred and niggling nagging misery pouring out of people into my eyes and the constant bloody reminder that I DON'T EVER DO ANYTHING PEOPLE WANT. That I have no worth. Nothing I do is ... not even "good enough", it's not even worth disdaining, it's just invisible. And I don't hate people for their successes right now, of my friends and acquaintances, I just hate my own unremitting failure, and the fact that the more I fail the less I even want to try.