(no subject)
As has been oft said before: ihateitihateitihateitihateitihateit. everything.
Half a bottle of Bundy and the attempted extraction of a tastebud later. And ... well, the cliff; the lookout, seems so very inviting. Maybe a ten minute walk? The middle of the night. So easy. So easy that I just want to cry because this shouldn't be my life, this shouldn't be the solution, this shouldn't be what I want. But what else? What else? Nothing else matters enough, nothing else ... not even my cats, not even anything. I just want to die. I do. I hate this. And I don't want people to tell me to keep safe, or say they hope I'm alright, or anything. I don't even want them to care. I just ... no, I want somebody to just hug me and love me and not have to say anything because I know what they mean. Fuck, I hate this. I just ... I don't know. I don't think it's the alochol. Maybe it's the movie. I don't know. I know why I hate myself. Because I'm pathetic and stupid and ... wrong. Who gives a fuck if I'm good at maths or english or get good grades or am always polite. What does it matter? Really? Everything ... it's too complicated. The best things in life, the thing about happiness, is that it's uncomplicated. I don't even have all my "leftovers" [of antidepressants]. Just alcohol and a bleeding tongue and a freezing cold atmosphere so I can't even go to the lookout.
Nothing matters enough, y'know. But I haven't even got the energy. Perhaps I'll just lie in bed for ages; sloth, vanity, greed, gluttony ... all combined; doing nothing, upset about my ugliness, wanting to be by myself and rude and not exercise. Or eat, preferably.
Fuck I hate this whole FUCKING world and why can't somebody just fucking shoot me and get the whole fucking thing over and done with. WHY THE FUCK NOT? And you can't even get a gun down here because of fucking Martin Bryant. I told my dad I wanted to get a gun license and gun for self protection [I do], and he reminded me. I wouldn't even know how to hang myself. FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCKKKKKKKKKK.
Maybe I'll watch the end of the movie and make myself feel worse or something. "Life as a House"
Hayden Cristensen is very good looking. And I love his accent. Do all Canadian guys speak like that?
Ooooh ... alcohol poisoning! But one bottle wouldn't be enough ...
Half a bottle of Bundy and the attempted extraction of a tastebud later. And ... well, the cliff; the lookout, seems so very inviting. Maybe a ten minute walk? The middle of the night. So easy. So easy that I just want to cry because this shouldn't be my life, this shouldn't be the solution, this shouldn't be what I want. But what else? What else? Nothing else matters enough, nothing else ... not even my cats, not even anything. I just want to die. I do. I hate this. And I don't want people to tell me to keep safe, or say they hope I'm alright, or anything. I don't even want them to care. I just ... no, I want somebody to just hug me and love me and not have to say anything because I know what they mean. Fuck, I hate this. I just ... I don't know. I don't think it's the alochol. Maybe it's the movie. I don't know. I know why I hate myself. Because I'm pathetic and stupid and ... wrong. Who gives a fuck if I'm good at maths or english or get good grades or am always polite. What does it matter? Really? Everything ... it's too complicated. The best things in life, the thing about happiness, is that it's uncomplicated. I don't even have all my "leftovers" [of antidepressants]. Just alcohol and a bleeding tongue and a freezing cold atmosphere so I can't even go to the lookout.
Nothing matters enough, y'know. But I haven't even got the energy. Perhaps I'll just lie in bed for ages; sloth, vanity, greed, gluttony ... all combined; doing nothing, upset about my ugliness, wanting to be by myself and rude and not exercise. Or eat, preferably.
Fuck I hate this whole FUCKING world and why can't somebody just fucking shoot me and get the whole fucking thing over and done with. WHY THE FUCK NOT? And you can't even get a gun down here because of fucking Martin Bryant. I told my dad I wanted to get a gun license and gun for self protection [I do], and he reminded me. I wouldn't even know how to hang myself. FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCKKKKKKKKKK.
Maybe I'll watch the end of the movie and make myself feel worse or something. "Life as a House"
Hayden Cristensen is very good looking. And I love his accent. Do all Canadian guys speak like that?
Ooooh ... alcohol poisoning! But one bottle wouldn't be enough ...