Something Is Not Right
The fat evil-spawn that poses as one of my warped ideas of children keeps making mad dashes for the cupboard and crying. He's hungry. And all I can do is talk to him and pet him and try and make him forget that he hasn't eaten in almost eight hours. And then I think, what a fatty. I'll be up in five hours to take him in and cut off his balls. My room looks great, but I hold no attachment or pride in it's looks, so it doesn't improve my mood any.
Anyway.
My point in stopping by livejournal at 2 a.m. ? Something feels miserably off. It started up my paranoia in the car on the way home. I turned on the light and looked around, after which I refused to look behind me, I stayed away from other cars, I did my best to keep safe. I hate putting words to the feeling, I don't know which is more dooming? I feel a bullet headed straight for my brain guys, and it doesn't feel like a metaphorical one.
I hate moments like this.
Save me?
So I'll take his jacket and his pants into bed with me and pretend everything is okay. I'll hug my pillow and press the other one against my head for some sick sense of protection and pretend I don't feel the looming presence of something unwanted.
I always said that if I were to commit suicide, it'd be by shooting myself in the head, because I wonder what it feels like.
But I never said I actually wanted to know.
Jesus, Paranoia. Do me a favor and find someone else to haunt for the night.
I love you I love you. I love you if I die tonight, I love you if I die tomorrow, I love you if I stay alive and for many more years to come. I love you forever and a day and the only reason I'm freaking out about this is because I never wanted to die away from you. Or at all, because of you.
Anyway.
My point in stopping by livejournal at 2 a.m. ? Something feels miserably off. It started up my paranoia in the car on the way home. I turned on the light and looked around, after which I refused to look behind me, I stayed away from other cars, I did my best to keep safe. I hate putting words to the feeling, I don't know which is more dooming? I feel a bullet headed straight for my brain guys, and it doesn't feel like a metaphorical one.
I hate moments like this.
Save me?
So I'll take his jacket and his pants into bed with me and pretend everything is okay. I'll hug my pillow and press the other one against my head for some sick sense of protection and pretend I don't feel the looming presence of something unwanted.
I always said that if I were to commit suicide, it'd be by shooting myself in the head, because I wonder what it feels like.
But I never said I actually wanted to know.
Jesus, Paranoia. Do me a favor and find someone else to haunt for the night.
I love you I love you. I love you if I die tonight, I love you if I die tomorrow, I love you if I stay alive and for many more years to come. I love you forever and a day and the only reason I'm freaking out about this is because I never wanted to die away from you. Or at all, because of you.