I have this shocking inability to be okay with things lately. I want to fuck and sleep and blast music and drink a lot and binge-watch Southpark and be set on a destructive path that does not consist of lousy mornings and boring afternoons and sad, contemplative evenings with nothing and no-one to talk to or be dumb with. I hate distance (wow, no shocker, that) and I hate that I just can’t seem to get over myself and accept that nothing is going to change about my circumstances, that I’m stuck and I’m here and I’m going nowhere because I’m so still and static and I am going nowhere.
I have mood swings that last for seconds and I get a whiplash with how fast I go from angry to sad to fucking shit to I’m dying alone and in a ditch somewhere with my thoughts for company and okay, I’ve been doing quite well since last March, but school is starting again and I’m so fucking scared, and I’m jealous of everyone who’s doing well and I’ve tried very, very hard to keep it together and I’ve done so fucking well I’ve even managed to convince myself it would all turn out fine but it’s not, and I’m not, and I’m hungry for something that does not leave and does not fade.
I am, simply put, looking for fucking cement shoes around my feet. Or better yet, a goddamn sarcophagus twelve feet under, because six isn’t too far down.