I want to scream so absolutely loud.
People are so fucking irritating.
They don't want to hang out because they feel intimidated.
How am I so intimidating? I can't even hold my own head right on my shoulders. I'm weaker than ever and I have no where to turn. Secret blogging is the only way I feel I can write and get things out. Actions that people do lead me to think they are threatened by me. Why? That's all I keep asking myself. Why, why, why?
Last night was an extremely low point for me. The equivalent of a miniature rock bottom. To the point where I was even tempted to cut.
"The streak, the streak, the streak." I haven't cut in over three years.
I can't break the streak
I am not physically attracted to anyone at this time. I don't think my body can comprehend romantic emotions with all of the other shit I'm going through.
It's Valentine's Day and I actually don't care that I'm alone. I didn't want to get out of bed this morning anyway. People just disappoint me anyway.
I hate pretending like I'm happy, but I hate being asked what's wrong even more.
I'm so full of regret and mistakes and bad thoughts and feelings. I wish I could scoop them all out and throw them away.
The center of all my emotions always lies within my gut. I used to think that if I didn't have a torso, I wouldn't be feeling so bad.
I wish I had practical dreams and goals. Art and writing, I feel, will get me nowhere. It's not like I'm motivated to do either of those anyway.