i'm so hideous and fat. i take up too much space. i don't deserve to live. i don't deserve anything. my ears ring with my own persistant breathing. in. out. always. going.
i want my sanity to shatter into a million pieces, fall into the deep cracks in the surface of my concious so i can never put myself back together again. i will always be alone. just myself and sleek silver razors and bright gray pills filling up the monotony with cheap meaning.
i can type for hours and eventually my thoughts will just circulate to where they started: self-loathing. and who really cares? but that doesn't matter. some... some people are just hopeless. there is no happy ending. just gray streaks of nothing.
