Zechariah Sitchin, Michael Chrichton, random fantasy novels, or start studying again?
All of man’s miseries derive from their inability to sit still in a quiet room.
‘Well son he’s got the task of cheering up the ill and dying.
On top of that everybody thinks that he’s insane.
Can’t fathom why he’d wanna ease their pain.’
“I cut off his fingers to get him to talk, and when he’d confessed everything I wanted to hear, I had his fucking tongue cut out, and the stump cauterized.”
Everyone in the room stared at him.
“I called him an asshole, too,” said Locke. “He didn’t like that.”
It’s speed, coke, and meth
It’s hay fever, pain relievers, oral sex, and smokers breath
It stretches for as far as the eye can see
It’s reality, fuck it , it’s everything but me
I don’t understand how people can call me “so smart”, when I fall for everything and fuck up everything. Maybe it’s just open mockery and I’m the fool. I’m too trusting, forgiving, loving, and all that nonsense for my own good. Yet, I feel nothing other than obligation with a single rare exception.
How do I stop myself from falling any further, there’s nothing to grab hold of and it feels like my descent is hastened by the very hands I had hoped help. Gentle taps and nudges, even family seems sick of seeing the hollow remains of the person I used to be. It’s not a good feeling, to be in virtually one piece and still feel castrated. But nobody really cares enough to ask, I’ve probably wrote more about how I feel on this tumblr that nobody really reads than I have ever actually told someone.
I’ve lost like fifteen pounds the past couple weeks, yet I still look like I’m really over weight. 5’11” - 6’ feet and I’m only 150 pounds. According to these websites I’m officially underweight unless I have a “small frame” and even then I’m at the lower end.
My scale must be broken.
Just let the lovin take a hold cuz it will if you let it
Im funky not a junkie but I know where to get it
No trouble no fuss I know why
Its so nice I wanna hear the same song twice
Its so nice I wanna hear the same song twice
Begging for help never gets you any. I don’t want to help me either, but I don’t want to have caused more harm going out outweighing the good I’ve done since I’ve come in. Reaffirming this belief continuously allows me to hope that not everybody who follows a similar life will feel as utterly fucked as I do.
If nothing else then, I believe madness and greatness are two sides of the same coin. Unless the odds are on my side in pursuing my desired outcome, it’s like a “god” flipping a coin every time I act, move, decide. I’m done taking risks that could make a negative impact. I won’t allow any coin tosses to take place and let my personal madness effect more people than it must. I’ll do as close to nothing as possible, ‘till I wither up and die. Plan B.
All based on the assumption life has any value other than the value we ourselves assign it, which I still often find incredibly doubtful. Losing belief in the value of life seems all too easy and too tempting. Self-terminating as apart of a self-preservation instinct, sidestep the terms of that innate urge to live as long as possible. Plan B’s back up plan…
I really enjoy when I’m reading one of my many methods of erotic escapism(NotRlyErotic) and the author randomly uses the word Niggardly.
Oh my god my boyfriend was at his friend’s house tonight playing stupid League of Legends with some douche bags and I called him like three times and he said “geeze stop bothering me all the time”
SORRY THAT I’M A NEEDY BITCH, FUCK
): Come hang out.
I have no idea what I’m doing anymore…
Well that was fun, but wasn’t nearly as crazy or intense as I expected…
The longer this goes on the worse things get…
Tequila, Clonazepam, and Suboxone does not mix…
Is it so wrong to want to be appreciated?
I don’t understand why I can’t just be happy.
I know I’m irresponsible in terms of school, I know I can be very blunt with some of the things I say. I just don’t understand how I can do as much as I possibly can for people and how I can always be there when someone needs me, yet when I’m the one who actually needs help even when it’s just something simple as having someone to talk to— there’s absolutely nobody.
Some people may beg to differ, may claim to treat me very well as a friend, but is coming to talk to me about all of your problems really being my friend? Is it really so much to ask for that someone be there for me? That I could actually get help when I ask, the way I try to help everyone else.
Maybe I’m delusional.. Maybe I don’t actually help anybody. Maybe all I do is fuck shit up for them, because I’m a broken person. Maybe I’m not worth helping. It’s just nice to know who’s who and what’s real. I can’t stand it.
It’s funny how many times I can get betrayed/ignored/ditched/used in one day that’s supposed to be all special and shit. 11/11/11.
I guess I should be used to it by now or at least learn from past mistakes.
With Taurus strength to lend a hand,
I come here now to make my stand.
Warrior Mars, protect my own,
Life and kin, hearth and home.
I wonder if I’m the only one who would easily discard the bit of bud left in the bottom of a baggy so it doesn’t get all over my lovely assortment of adderall and vyvanse of different sizes and ir/xrs… I’ve found the best way to preserve instant release is in a baggy inside a pill case (kind of like inception, A CASE WITHIN A CASE). If you keep them in a plastic container and put it in your pocket, they will slowly dissolve as they jump around and coat the inside in powder…
Four days of no sunlight and minimal human contact must come to an end..
Fuck Neurosis and myself, we do not mix well together if I indulge in the darker aspects of ideation, cerebral manifestation, phantasmagoric imagination, ET-IK-UH (etc.).
Gonna blow so much coke and addy they’re going to have to remove my septum like Daniella Westbrook.