(no subject)
i feel the need to write something.
but i can't.
and it's really fucking frustrating me.
i hate reading all of the crap i wrote so long ago.
and not knowing what to write now because nothing's going to be better.
it's all going to be shit all the time.
i hate looking back and wondering why i wrote them
because i had to have known they'd give it all away.
and still nobody gets it? are people really that dumb?
but then again i hope they are. and i am rambling because i have to.
basically. i have to ramble. because i hate feeling. and the things that stop feeling aren't allowed anymore. because i have a boss now. and the boss tells me what i can and can't do. only i have more than one. and some tell me to do things that aren't so good. but i basically don't care. and no one gets this and i hope they don't actually. i don't even get it. because i'm stupid, pretty much. i love it. i love being so stupid and no one knows it. nobody really knows what a complete asshole i am. except me. and occasionally nicolas, when i let him. usually i don't. i have a migraine. staring at a computer screen really fuckking helps. not. but getting all this shit out isn't so bad. it will be when someone questions it. but no one reads this anymore. i get no comments, no visitors. and i like it that way, i think. that way i can actually say things. even though i still won't because i'm really cool and i use real paper for that. but there's no real paper here. there's no real nothing here except sadness and fucking migraines and growling fucking stomachs. basically. but who cares? all i can think about is how glad i am that no one reads this. i need to be able to say what's wrong with me. i need to admit it, even if it's only to myself. haha. i still can't. i guess like, you're supposed to admit you have a problem before you can get help for it. so why dont i? perhaps it is because i enjoy lying to myself.
i think i just like having secrets with myself that nobody knows. perhaps. i think it makes me happy to know that i have a secret that no one knows. maybe that's why i do the things i do. maybe that's why i won't even tell my retarded internet thing about it. haha. i love myself. which is really cool. i always say i love myself. i wonder if i'll ever mean it. i wonder when i'll run out of thoughts and stop typing this and go pretend i'm happy again. that's pretty much what it is. all the time. i'm always a faker. but no one notices so i guess i'm good at it. but i don't see how no one can tell. maybe i just feel them because they're there. maybe since i know they're there, it makes it scary for me because i feel like everyone else can see them. the scars, i mean. i think i like them though. to be honest, i consider them part of me, duh, cause they are. but i like them. when i dont have any or when they start to fade i feel the need to make more. and i am hoping seriously that no one reads this, and if they started, i am hoping they did not get this far. i feel that sometimes my scars are so obvious and noone notices. no one sees them and no one hears my stomach growling. i wonder why that is. i don't think i should question it anymore, but i appreciate it i suppose. and i am going to be really pissed at myself if someone ends up reading this and saying something, because then someone would know somethign about me. i love that everyone thinks they know about me, but no one does. and i love rambling about nothing that means anything.
when will i run out of thoughts?
forget it. i'm starving.
but i can't.
and it's really fucking frustrating me.
i hate reading all of the crap i wrote so long ago.
and not knowing what to write now because nothing's going to be better.
it's all going to be shit all the time.
i hate looking back and wondering why i wrote them
because i had to have known they'd give it all away.
and still nobody gets it? are people really that dumb?
but then again i hope they are. and i am rambling because i have to.
basically. i have to ramble. because i hate feeling. and the things that stop feeling aren't allowed anymore. because i have a boss now. and the boss tells me what i can and can't do. only i have more than one. and some tell me to do things that aren't so good. but i basically don't care. and no one gets this and i hope they don't actually. i don't even get it. because i'm stupid, pretty much. i love it. i love being so stupid and no one knows it. nobody really knows what a complete asshole i am. except me. and occasionally nicolas, when i let him. usually i don't. i have a migraine. staring at a computer screen really fuckking helps. not. but getting all this shit out isn't so bad. it will be when someone questions it. but no one reads this anymore. i get no comments, no visitors. and i like it that way, i think. that way i can actually say things. even though i still won't because i'm really cool and i use real paper for that. but there's no real paper here. there's no real nothing here except sadness and fucking migraines and growling fucking stomachs. basically. but who cares? all i can think about is how glad i am that no one reads this. i need to be able to say what's wrong with me. i need to admit it, even if it's only to myself. haha. i still can't. i guess like, you're supposed to admit you have a problem before you can get help for it. so why dont i? perhaps it is because i enjoy lying to myself.
i think i just like having secrets with myself that nobody knows. perhaps. i think it makes me happy to know that i have a secret that no one knows. maybe that's why i do the things i do. maybe that's why i won't even tell my retarded internet thing about it. haha. i love myself. which is really cool. i always say i love myself. i wonder if i'll ever mean it. i wonder when i'll run out of thoughts and stop typing this and go pretend i'm happy again. that's pretty much what it is. all the time. i'm always a faker. but no one notices so i guess i'm good at it. but i don't see how no one can tell. maybe i just feel them because they're there. maybe since i know they're there, it makes it scary for me because i feel like everyone else can see them. the scars, i mean. i think i like them though. to be honest, i consider them part of me, duh, cause they are. but i like them. when i dont have any or when they start to fade i feel the need to make more. and i am hoping seriously that no one reads this, and if they started, i am hoping they did not get this far. i feel that sometimes my scars are so obvious and noone notices. no one sees them and no one hears my stomach growling. i wonder why that is. i don't think i should question it anymore, but i appreciate it i suppose. and i am going to be really pissed at myself if someone ends up reading this and saying something, because then someone would know somethign about me. i love that everyone thinks they know about me, but no one does. and i love rambling about nothing that means anything.
when will i run out of thoughts?
forget it. i'm starving.