(no subject)
I look in the mirror and I hate everything I see. From the shape of my face, to the colour of my skin, the way my hair falls, and the extras, the extras, THE EXTRAS!!! I want to rip it all off, dig my nails deep into my flesh and just rip, tear, bite it all off. I dont need it. I cant have it. I cant handle it. I swallow the pill I know will make me lose my appetite. Ecstacy, speed, meth, mdma. Whatever it is. Good times, love, touching, holding, running, kissing, hugging, emotions. But can I leave out the fact that it makes me lose weight? Thats an A+ bonus. 8 pounds. Gone. Just like that. Appitite gone. Just like that. And I love it. I have control. Control. The extras, theyre gone!! I can get rid of the fucking extras.
Then I slip up. Out of control. I let go.. and I cant get ahold of it again. I know one thing that will for sure solve this problem.
I cannot rely on such things though. I have to keep control over the extras.
Fucking extras.
and the reason I feel so alone is because of the extras. How could someone ever love me if I am so full of it. Everywhere. Its every-fucking-where. Painted in my face, my body, my words, my actions, my life, my house, my pets, my room, my art, my books, my writing, my scribbles, my ideas, my wrists, my clothes, my food, my cigarettes, my drugs, my mouth, my eyes, my desk, my journal, my colours, my breathing, my heart, my hate, and everything I touch or look at or feel emotionally. Im everywhere. Im everything. And Im full of needless worthless SHIT. I now I need to regain control. Control. Control. Control.
Today I bougt a new pack of smokes and 0 gage streachers. Yay.
I also did the grouse motherfuckin grind. Hardcorrree man.
This entry makes no sence and I dont care anymore.
Then I slip up. Out of control. I let go.. and I cant get ahold of it again. I know one thing that will for sure solve this problem.
I cannot rely on such things though. I have to keep control over the extras.
Fucking extras.
and the reason I feel so alone is because of the extras. How could someone ever love me if I am so full of it. Everywhere. Its every-fucking-where. Painted in my face, my body, my words, my actions, my life, my house, my pets, my room, my art, my books, my writing, my scribbles, my ideas, my wrists, my clothes, my food, my cigarettes, my drugs, my mouth, my eyes, my desk, my journal, my colours, my breathing, my heart, my hate, and everything I touch or look at or feel emotionally. Im everywhere. Im everything. And Im full of needless worthless SHIT. I now I need to regain control. Control. Control. Control.
Today I bougt a new pack of smokes and 0 gage streachers. Yay.
I also did the grouse motherfuckin grind. Hardcorrree man.
This entry makes no sence and I dont care anymore.