fuori dal mondo
I am going to write this while I still have battery in my laptop left because the charger cable is pretty much fucked. Well, no - it’s not yet. Would that mean it’s fucking? Hmm, now there’s a thought. I have forty minutes remaining - better make the most of the situation, aye?
My life feels like a fucking joke right now. Everyone seems to insinuate that is.. so then, maybe it is a joke? Is it? A joke? Oh, ha ha - how amazing, how funny and delightful. How very fucking funny. I feel like anything I try to do is just a fucking joke. And I’m tired, so very fucking tired. I’m fed up with this place and I hate how I have to keep coming back to it. It reminds me of the person I do not want to be. It reminds me of the fucked up childhood - a massive play consisting mainly of villains with no heroes or help.
And I’m the Ophelia - screaming to myself in the corner and singing and no one hears me. No one had ever heard me.
I hate the person I am. I hoped that leaving my hometown would help me find myself; seek out the person I’m meant to be. The person who’s been trapped all these years, thanks to a certain amount of people - but I feel just a lost. I’m still the stupid little girl, I just changed locations.
And that makes me feel sad. I feel like I’ll always be running from what I used to be and still won’t be any further forward. I just want to get lost. I need to find someone. I need someone to fuck, someone I can lose myself in and just not care anymore. I just want to cry and scream and yell.
Because until then, I’m silent and it’s slowly killing me inside.
I’m cold, I’m ill. I’m rather sick right now. I’ve always been sick, I guess. Or maybe I’m not and it’s all in my head? Am I being melodramatic? Or just painfully honest to myself?
My brain hurts, every muscle aches. My skin grows hot then cold and I’m restless.
I hate being me.
I should sleep.
I have things to do tomorrow.
Counting down the days and I can return to my shit flat with my shit flatmates and shit life.
I feel terribly lonely.
The world is quiet here.
My life feels like a fucking joke right now. Everyone seems to insinuate that is.. so then, maybe it is a joke? Is it? A joke? Oh, ha ha - how amazing, how funny and delightful. How very fucking funny. I feel like anything I try to do is just a fucking joke. And I’m tired, so very fucking tired. I’m fed up with this place and I hate how I have to keep coming back to it. It reminds me of the person I do not want to be. It reminds me of the fucked up childhood - a massive play consisting mainly of villains with no heroes or help.
And I’m the Ophelia - screaming to myself in the corner and singing and no one hears me. No one had ever heard me.
I hate the person I am. I hoped that leaving my hometown would help me find myself; seek out the person I’m meant to be. The person who’s been trapped all these years, thanks to a certain amount of people - but I feel just a lost. I’m still the stupid little girl, I just changed locations.
And that makes me feel sad. I feel like I’ll always be running from what I used to be and still won’t be any further forward. I just want to get lost. I need to find someone. I need someone to fuck, someone I can lose myself in and just not care anymore. I just want to cry and scream and yell.
Because until then, I’m silent and it’s slowly killing me inside.
I’m cold, I’m ill. I’m rather sick right now. I’ve always been sick, I guess. Or maybe I’m not and it’s all in my head? Am I being melodramatic? Or just painfully honest to myself?
My brain hurts, every muscle aches. My skin grows hot then cold and I’m restless.
I hate being me.
I should sleep.
I have things to do tomorrow.
Counting down the days and I can return to my shit flat with my shit flatmates and shit life.
I feel terribly lonely.
The world is quiet here.