Advice?
There was a swedish girl who I gave good tips on how to sleep. I tell soliders who've just seen horrible shit. Because. I associate with that.
It's pretty, fucking bad when you haven't been in a war. For real, anyway. But you're at a military bar. and you have this hollow look and this sense of comradery with military people. And just some guy. Who doesn't know your name, he notices that look in you.
And he looks over. he smiles, he shakes your hand. and pats your back. Essentially telling you. 'Yes. we made it. We're alive.' People who've been in Iraq or Afganistan. or whatever.
And I can't think of anything to say. I desperately want to thank this person. And he's amazing. I would lay my life down in a heartbeat for so many people because I view myself as just.
Worthless. Ugly. Tainted. Filthy. Dirty. Horrible. Whatever the single verb word for 'clearly deserving of death' - is.
Fake.
Guess that's 8, not 7. I'm not complete.
I don't think I ever will be. I try to desperately hold on to things that will keep my fool ass alive. Only I guess it's one of those things like the closer you get, (or think you get) it just nudges away a little more.
I have decided to take steps to just finally take meds they prescribed, despite them almost killing me twice. I guess I'll pray for some stupid mistake. That usually works out.
If I don't kill myself, and it's not my fault? It's someone else. I'm pretty sure they'll at least feel horrible about it. (Imean she already just refuses to see me anymore, because she feels so bad about almost killing me.) I liked her. She was a good doctor that just wanted to help. It wasn't really her fault I almost died.
It wasn't mine either? But I'm alive.
Unfortunately.
I just want to go to sleep for a long time.
It's pretty, fucking bad when you haven't been in a war. For real, anyway. But you're at a military bar. and you have this hollow look and this sense of comradery with military people. And just some guy. Who doesn't know your name, he notices that look in you.
And he looks over. he smiles, he shakes your hand. and pats your back. Essentially telling you. 'Yes. we made it. We're alive.' People who've been in Iraq or Afganistan. or whatever.
And I can't think of anything to say. I desperately want to thank this person. And he's amazing. I would lay my life down in a heartbeat for so many people because I view myself as just.
Worthless. Ugly. Tainted. Filthy. Dirty. Horrible. Whatever the single verb word for 'clearly deserving of death' - is.
Fake.
Guess that's 8, not 7. I'm not complete.
I don't think I ever will be. I try to desperately hold on to things that will keep my fool ass alive. Only I guess it's one of those things like the closer you get, (or think you get) it just nudges away a little more.
I have decided to take steps to just finally take meds they prescribed, despite them almost killing me twice. I guess I'll pray for some stupid mistake. That usually works out.
If I don't kill myself, and it's not my fault? It's someone else. I'm pretty sure they'll at least feel horrible about it. (Imean she already just refuses to see me anymore, because she feels so bad about almost killing me.) I liked her. She was a good doctor that just wanted to help. It wasn't really her fault I almost died.
It wasn't mine either? But I'm alive.
Unfortunately.
I just want to go to sleep for a long time.