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I wonder if hitter was reincarnated as a lantern fish in perpetuity

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It’s been a while since I cut as deep as I did tonight on my thigh. It feel intoxicatingly freeing letting the thoughts of being a failure be released through the gliding blood.

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Everyday has become, tomorrow I will.

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Height freight. You know what I mean.

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There's a duplex tract behind my apartment building and there's a woman who likes to use a leaf blower at odd times and very late at night. Then there's a person who is uses saw at almost 10 pm. Or how bout the ice cream truck that drives by between 8 pm to 10 pm. I'm thankful I don't next door to these people.

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Bob Ross gets me

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So, if a monarchy doesn't govern a country anymore, why didn't they ever die out? I will gives props to America inventing the idea that citizens rule their country with 'common' people. Idk. Inebriated thinking.

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I've turned my sims' lives into messes, just like my own. I'm being neglectful, chaotic, and confusing as hell. I didn't know I was capable of that. I have to get their lives in order.

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Someone was actually paid to cig dinosaurs fucking

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Playing Zelda and the sims is my fucking happy place.

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What I like about keeping a journal when you're young, is that when you're older, you can look back at a very unique story. You're the author, narrator, protagonist, antagonist, the unreliable narrator, the curator. Believed to be important dates are put down. Proclamations and exclamations are declared with absolute conviction. They are filled with self absorption, observation, and reflection.

Added bonus, is getting second hand embarrassment reading your narrated life.

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What's the most you've spent on weed?

$160, by mistake

*realizes this hours later and stoned*

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I have to adjust my brain somehow. The hallucinations are getting closer to becoming tangible. Last night at work, I heard someone two rows over heavily sighing in 10 minute intervals and the crisp sound of paper shuffling. I walked over to see no one at any desk.

A bit ago, I heard old French jazz playing from an audiable distance.

Neither are real but they appear to be.

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August 15, 2017; 11:03 pm

This is what my bpd and depression looks like. Why am I doing this? Because I live in shame with this. Have been living in this shame for exactly 20 years. I don't tell many until years later. I have learned that my solution to my inner conflict can and has been used against me. I have done therapy. I have learned how to stop doing it. I have never gone a full year without using matches or razors. I came close once. I was literally one day away from a full year when I was 17. Back then I used to record the number of wounds, an estimated time, and the date. Once I got to 100, I stopped. Some years were worse than others. There would be times that I'd do it every day. Each time I do this, I get closer and closer to the end. I don't seek pity because I'm too busy living in shame and hiding the marks. I'm told to tell when there's an urge. When I reach out, few respond so I don't. This time I dug the tip of the blade far enough, silver disappeared. I saw skin frayed once I stopped bleeding. This I'm not proud of. I'm not crying out for help or seeking pity. I just want to stop feeling guilty and ashamed.

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I've planted these things everywhere apparently. Yet, I've had episodes and I couldn't find a damn one.

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I just want to find my person.

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The idea of hanging keeps sounding more and more enticing.

The problem with me, I want to see the after.