...and I don't really have anyone to talk to except the voice in my head.
sometimes I wonder why people bother with me. I don't contribute, I'm a free-rider; a drain.
I want to purge. I wan't it quite badly. I feel dead inside and sedated in my thoughts. My mental life is erroding. But I am now aware of just how much.
I wish I didn't fuck up with my PhD plans.
I wish that I didn't become infatuated with Marie
I wish that I didn't start purging.
But now, I need it. I need that rush, that thrill, that feeling and sense of clarity.
It tastes horrible in the back of my mouth. That's the taste of life, sour, disappointing, acidic, draining; and all you have to look forward to is even more and worse.
I'm sorry that I'm such a downer. If I'm honest with you. I can only tell you. I can hide it so well. I wish they saw. I wish they knew, I wish they cared.
I'm going into a dark place. I dont want a girl to save me. I cannot resist such girls who think that they can fix me. I end up falling in love with them and when I get better they have nothing to say to me, because the thing that kept us together was some sexualised emotional yearning that she had to nurture me and see me as vulnerable. When I become more independent, or when my independence is hindered; they lose interest and say that you weren't the person I thought you were.
I guess that's why I need to be alone, and yet I feel like I am screaming inside. suffocating for air.
I hate my weight. I fucking hate it. I fucking hate this stupid body.
I haven't gotten angry in so long I think that its soaking inside me, corrupting me. I'm going to get on with the rest of my day.
sometimes I wonder why people bother with me. I don't contribute, I'm a free-rider; a drain.
I want to purge. I wan't it quite badly. I feel dead inside and sedated in my thoughts. My mental life is erroding. But I am now aware of just how much.
I wish I didn't fuck up with my PhD plans.
I wish that I didn't become infatuated with Marie
I wish that I didn't start purging.
But now, I need it. I need that rush, that thrill, that feeling and sense of clarity.
It tastes horrible in the back of my mouth. That's the taste of life, sour, disappointing, acidic, draining; and all you have to look forward to is even more and worse.
I'm sorry that I'm such a downer. If I'm honest with you. I can only tell you. I can hide it so well. I wish they saw. I wish they knew, I wish they cared.
I'm going into a dark place. I dont want a girl to save me. I cannot resist such girls who think that they can fix me. I end up falling in love with them and when I get better they have nothing to say to me, because the thing that kept us together was some sexualised emotional yearning that she had to nurture me and see me as vulnerable. When I become more independent, or when my independence is hindered; they lose interest and say that you weren't the person I thought you were.
I guess that's why I need to be alone, and yet I feel like I am screaming inside. suffocating for air.
I hate my weight. I fucking hate it. I fucking hate this stupid body.
I haven't gotten angry in so long I think that its soaking inside me, corrupting me. I'm going to get on with the rest of my day.
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