i've begun to wonder if i'm kidding myself with this existance. i'm in a band but everyone hates the band except me, mostly because everyone in it thinks i've got my head up my ass and maybe they're right...the onlys eirous thing i've written ever is a string quartet which "lacks in harmony" and "*laugh*...awwww"s.

i wonder if i'm being laughed at by everyone from the shadows, that if what i worry about is true, they're laughing at me, they say exactly what i tell myself they don't REALLY say....i wonder if i can concentrate ever again.....looking at things is becoming so difficult, i cry sometimes because everything is too fuzzy to actually see...i'm worried when i pull down my pants or pull my head out of it i'll find something scary in the toilet...

i can't go back on drugs again, they're not quick enough, i've taken to tickling pain...not sharp apple pain, more like "rain" pain...i'm thinking about Kathy's Song by simon and garfunkel, it's such a wonderfully sad song...it makes me positively depressed...."and the song i was writing left undone, i don't know why i spend my time writing songs i can't believe..."

I wish i could tell everyone how to make it better, i don't know if it will and i'm worried i'm just going to crack soon...i'm almost there....all this deception and all of this...i hate high school politics, but it's so much worse when you realize they're LIFE politics. whomever is thin and pretty and flirtatious gets everything. whoever keeps their mouth shut ends up scaring people when they just crack...

the smallest things set me off...unrequited love never does anymore...it's depressing all the same...i think my final loss of self, no longer achieving what i once could, no longer willing to achieve it....and disappointing the people around me who claim i put the pressure on myself...i see the looks on their faces. i can tell who is really disappointed. at the end of the day i'll still be flipping burgers from the bottom of a pool filled with vodka and sleeping pills...

ah fuck life. wouldn't it be nice to see what it's like to be someone who thinks they have problems until they compare themselves to yours?

god, the possibilities of HIV. the possibilities of heroin. the possibilities of slicing words into capillary stained skin. The possibilities of it all.

Oh the drivel i can come up with when given a lot of anger and too much work. i think i'll go eat a day's worth of calories, then see how my knife licks react to chlorine.