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Over stimulated

Write something satisfying

Just so I can crave my own ego once more

A snake devouring itself

Disgusting

Cure me of my sick lust and cannibalism

When will it ever be enough

Drinks and pills and a fathers love

I want to be good enough but never quite make it there

My knees bend awkwardly my belly hangs lose

The skin of my forehead feels tight and aging

My elbows rough and the bottoms of my heels cracking

My teeth rotting out of my head

As I lose my vision to degeneration

My mind becomes a numb skull

One can only hope

Not even ketamine can quiet the storm

Despite being so over medicated, I should be declared dead

There’s not much left inside of me

So I’m not even sure how it’s possible at this point I’m still alive

I hardly drink water except to swallow six pills a day, and I would take double or triple the amount if you’d let me

Bottomless abyss, void

I don’t know what happened to my happiness

“It’s okay in the day, I’m staying busy… run around the house just so I don’t have to think about thinking… That silent sense of content, that everyone gets, just disappears as the sun sets.” - Amy winehouse

Is this all I have, is this all that is meant for me, is that all I can understand and reach for due to my ignorance

Am I trapped from transcendence

Am I a pig in my own shit born for slaughter… if only someone could find me rolling in the mud and devour me

What is my purpose as a being my value

Do I mean anything

Am I worth anything

My body just feels like a paper bag I wear around, dragging my feet,

I want to close myself into a book flat like plucked flowers kept frozen for a hundred years or so

Close the pages tight tuck me in at night turn out the lights and no one knows I am home

I don’t see another soul for I hide from my own shame

I don’t want them to look at me one more second

Never again, hide, hide, hide. Hide, hide, hide forever, hide.

From it all… from it all. Dissociate into endless levels of distraction, emptying myself into the abyss of nothingness

Becoming nothing too… alone… alone….. alone and loveless …. Discarded forgotten homeless discouraged rotten and forgotten child

Leave here and disappear,…. Forever so as to never feel anything ever again like this

As it will surely destroy me should I focus on it

Mmmmm …. I run away privately and quiet inside myself

No one knows

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You don’t realize how much of a workaholic you are and how difficult of a time you have relaxing until you go on vacation

Like goddamn, i have mental issues

I can’t just sleep in like a normal person, there is literally 3 people awake on this island right now and two of them are people who are having to set up shop and work- and the other is an old guy taking a brisk walk on the beach.

But yeah, i wake up at 5am and shoot of bed, walk around the island with nothing to do, and there is literally no one awake. It felt good for 15 minutes but then i lost interest, mainly due to loneliness? And so i just started hanging up my clothes and trying not to have circular thoughts that will make me worse (as if i have any control at this point)

Ruminating about the future, ruminating about my own happiness, ruminating about things i don’t like about myself and my uncertainties and insecurities

You’d think goddamn just take a Xanax or Ativan or whatever the fuck and chill out and shut up right but nothing makes my head truly go silent

I wanted to say good bye to my obsessions but i said good bye to my obsessions 80 times in my head, 180 times maybe, maybe 900 times, i couldn’t stop saying it to myself because i want to say good bye to my obsessions

But i can’t stop, as it feels intangible out of reach something to do just for the sake of doing it, I’m always seeking, despite trying my best to fill myself up with gratitude and contentment and blah blah blah

It just never ceases, hypo manic energy almost overtakes me, and no one else seems to understand why i seem so un calm

I can’t stop, so i do things that no one else does. And pride myself on, the external validation of my own perfectionism and productivity like it’s a drug i get high off of or need to survive

Meanwhile in the background there is this burning self hatred and pointlessness, and feelings of isolation, and being trapped

Like a wounded child, and a wild animal in a cage biting to get out and scream, and tear into the flesh of those who deserve to be torn apart

Simply because i felt like it, and want to destroy and control whats inside of me but i can’t, so i lose myself to these waves of mentally ill thoughts and manic rage lashing out at everyone

While i psychotically hang my clothes perfectly in a row, everything is perfectly fine, all the time….

In my little world, all alone…. Nothing could cure this kind of emptiness and discontent

It’s the loudest when i go to places like this, because i really have no one and nothing else around to blame but myself, or the things greater than me which i don’t understand and could be figments of someone else’s imagination for all i know

What do i know, i know nothing, i rely on feeling and reaction, and trust none of it, as I flim and flam about no where to the next no where for no real reason

It all gets so boring sometimes, i can hardly come up with something i care to entertain, saving the world or watching it burn neither is satisfying,

I simply, don’t care, and i think oh, maybe if someone else cares maybe if someone else loves me maybe if i belong to something …. But i don’t connect. Despite claiming its all i want, i run from that the most of anything

I am tied up inside endless conundrums and unsolvable riddles that make no sense, lose ends that never meet, a maze you can never escape

The only hope I have is feeling of catharsis and relief, whether its from, losing consciousness, a shameful amount of sleep- drug induced, or overdosing

I had the best intentions but there is so much pain i carry around, and shame, and insecurity, its hard to let go of it all so easily…. And not care what other people think,

So i turn to poetry and music for release, and a few other things not as satisfying- my dopamine deprived brain, broken from the inside, i want a perfect body

They judge me, and say how could she be so selfish

I hate it too. I hate it too, but i can’t make it stop, i can’t fix myself, i need help.

Most people tell me to shut up and everything will be fine. It never really is though, i don’t know when it ever will be so i gave up waiting for the feeling and accepted the brutal fact of my experience here in life

Unfortunately isn’t the happiest experience, despite having everything you could of ever wanted.

And everybody hates me because I’m Gay. Narcissist…. Deluded, insane, psychotic, obsessive, neurotic,…. I have no character, no backbone, no work ethic, no cares. I am amoral, depraved, baseless, empty inside.

Drowning in a river of my very own device….. happiness is my own self destruction and demise

So at least it’s the path of least resistance, with least collateral damage, remove myself from the equation, quietly, slowly,

Floating down the river, giving up, suicide.

The only other choice i have is to hold onto hoping, despite all odds not being the best, bravely facing death, a martyr to what, my own ignorance

I can’t get past my own self, much less, ascend beyond that,

I wish i could, as if that would, fantastically heal the raw reality and aching wounds, festering with maggots that rot in my very core, my soul, and my most vulnerable, private places,

You, put them there, i blame you and take out fire on you with branded steel steering on your skin

Hating all men

I should know better than this, but its hard to pretend you can always control all your emotions

Wipe them out like they aren’t there, take a pill and pretend to be happy like everyone else, smile for the cameras

Don’t be such, a drag, get up and light someone else’s path, get off your knees

Feed the begging man, ask god for forgiveness as he strikes you down and plagues you, a leper with decaying skin, painful diseases, and sicknesses

Leaving you to rot like filth on the scum soaked sidewalks like the vermin you are

Worthless beguiled rotten …. You turned all of gods golden light inside your innocent baby body

And made a mockery of him. So he strikes me down, again, and again, and again. Flogging us senseless.

And i still hope for redemption. Purity, forgiveness. As if i can ever quit. My mind a dirty dumpster dive of imperfection and sin.

I’ll never be good enough for him……

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Okay so I wake up in a good moood and everything is fine so I’ve determined my problem as long as my attitude and self confidence and self love is good like what depression it’s just other peoples energy that I’m like no thanks sis

And people can judge all they want if this is what growth looks like for me and then I’m down and out the next like

That’s okay life is multi dimensional

I have moods I’m human this is how it goes

UPS and downs of life

Either that or I’m bipolar

All I know is taking too much Ativan is definitely bad for me lol

And I might be dissociative but oh well

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I am suffering from mental illness and I don’t know how to stop being mentally ill thank you

Also am ugly so

I love Amy wienhiuse because she encapsulates what happens what you’re the good guy but you get tired of being the good guy, but you’re still the good guy…

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m so fucking depressed I don’t see the point in being alive because I hate the way other people treat me and I don’t like anyone like I just hate everything the way it is, and myself, I don’t understand why I can’t have something that makes my life feel worth living. I tried to find inherent worth in living but, everything feels like a different line of bull shit people sell themselves. I don’t know why I’m so hateful and anti-social, and if I revealed my true nature to people they would think there’s something deeply wrong with me and would repel them from me worse than I naturally do… I struggle to connect, I am so lonely, my confidence is crippled. I don’t see the point in anything because it’s not going to reward me with anything I want: I haven’t lived life in a way I genuinely wanted to in a long time, I live for everyone else all the fucking time, to the point I don’t want to see anyone anymore, because they all just expect and want things from you( and judge more than they understand. This planet feels so hopeless and joyless, and based. Black pilled. Red pulled. You have stolen all the spark; and spontaneity , and hope, and beauty that is inherently alive in life. I wish someone would believe me or join me… but few can hear the tune it seems like. I’ve seen people getting mental help, passing by, and I wonder if they’re like me. I don’t know why I’ve been the way I’ve beeen, growing up, but it seems like I’ve always been quite unquote crazy or nontypical, misfit( etc: to the point of having almost close to no capacity to fit in no matter how hard I try I just don’t realistically. So how do I belong in a world of insane ails lies foibles and tumultuous war crimes. Who do I listen to when the whispers between the elitists politicians and anyone with power are all secrets tied up in bank notes and laundering accounts and shell companies, all the hand shakes are under the table, fake people with Botox faces and their jewelry so heavy on their chests it makes their breasts numb. I wonder how you can breathe under the weight of that guilt, Versace mansion marble carved caskets buried in a corset of crystals and blessed by who? Social media giants, a statue of your body paralyzed in bronze stands in the park alone in the rain and the cold. Who is there for you now? What was the point of it all

Even if it’s all entirely less grandiose and the path is less traveled and far more humble

How many marriages and flights to Haiti and full shopping bags at Christmas time until it gets old? I don’t want to do the same thing year after year, and yet we are forced to pick one thing and be good at it.

Stay silent keep your head down and look the other way, do as I say, do what everyone else does, blend in, act the part, stand up straight, smile more. Look like you give a shit and get 8 hours of sleep and 10 on Sundays.

Are you really happy in your butter soft brown silk shorts and starch pressed blue gingham shirt buttoned up to your Adams apple?

Does anything make you feel free the emotional weight of existence itself other than destruction, guns ammo arrows, fire and explosions? Do you want to whirl your fists into someone until the blood and teeth come lose as the air is displaced out of the chest and their jaw hangs open, do you want to hold onto a blade so tight that it rips open the palms of your hands and blood drips out.

Would you jump from a high rise just to feel a rush, or get High every week on the same street corner with happy corny faces you call friends, dough cheeks filled with ale or tequila, they go to sleep and don’t even dream at night. Empty vessels, cattle for the heard.

Do you wonder what it’s like to question the status who and walk the opposite direction as everyone else just to see what it feels like to play devils advocate?

If everything’s statistics then we’re all more likely to lose, so if it’s a gamble fuck it why not play Russian roulette every morning with your bowl of cereal, cinnamon toast…

I fell in love with her and all the thoughts went quiet

Without her I’m diagnosed with every mental illness under the sun, I’m as good as a homeless bum under a bridge- I’ve know. A few that were more productive and intelligent than I am. They died and didn’t deserve to, meanwhile I keep living like a parasite hanging onto the belly of a whale

Cruising through the thoughtless ocean alone, living for no reason other than just to have the security of waking up and looking to my left and to my right and feeling like I’m somewhere familiar

Rather than lost in the big abyss, left to be devoured by the unknown.

Stagnation from fear is worse than suicide, death is peace in the eyes of endless torment. It’s as simple as that.

There are some illnesses and diseases there are no cure for, and which there is no known successful treatment or cure, and a 100% fatality rate.

Why do we refuse to accept sometimes, this is what has happened to one of us. What am I holding on for? To taste the salty ketchup on saltines under my aging tongue, while I forget my own name and sit in adult diapers, in a home in my late 90s. And that’s if you’re one of the lucky ones. That’s your fate.

I would dictate something better for myself but there is no such thing, decline is inevitable so, you have no choice but to embrace the suck as you fall, inevitably dying. Some faster than the rest.

You look at me like I’ve got a big target on my head, and If you rub me enough times I’ll fulfill your every wish. Put a coin in the machine right In the slit and use me and then I’ll bleed and cycle around again, a woman on this earth no better than the other prized possessions you shoved into the back of your trunk.

You didn’t even clean me off after you spit your excrement on me…. But if you take me to dinner somehow, you deserve that. You deserve access. There’s a timeline of patience, and you’ll run out of it? And onto the next shiny new toy.

Because we’re nothing special; nothing but expendable.

Only worth how much someone loves me. What if I demand how I am to be treated, and you will bow because I said so. I made it so.

If this is the only way, then I don’t want it at all. No crown, no hero,

No false flames and fake family photos, taken on Christmas, singing carols to god who told us a long time ago, in gothic churches, singing was only for devil worship.

Is there any way to know peace without also, untimely sacrifice… inevitable, dreadful, regret, to live with. In my memory behind me.

I hate how much there was behind when I look back turning to pillars of sand. My past follows me everywhere I go, I could bury myself in pillars of smoke and glasses of whiskey until my eyes are bleary my hands are shaking

I can’t stand straight anymore

And I’ll still, be here. Right here. Stuck, on repeat, like a sad song, on ground hog day.

Ever since you’re done, stuck in the sand, drowning in anti-depressants, and… looking for another thing to get high off of. Anything to take away the pain.

NA chastises me and says I should be grateful.

I have nothing left in me but mourning, and I have to medicate the ache in my chest or I will simply be too weary to carry on at all. I can hardly get out of bed, and I gasp for breath and put my hand over my mouth as the tears roll out of my eyes at 3am

I told myself I wouldn’t go here again.

But there’s that feeling again it always shows up, to kill me and the way you all treat me… is just another insult to the massive endless void that mental institutions call injury, illness, disease.

I make myself sick even, like I have no choice.

A tumor like cancer that grows all around, and suffocates all life out from the inside out, eating me alive.

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Nine Eyes of Google Street View Jon Rafman

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I took my meds, I’m still crazy as shit

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I’m not programmed I’m capable of original thoughts (which makes me inherently insane)

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american made ౨ৎ

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The fact that I can take half your Ativan prescription you get in a month in one day without dying should allow you to understand there is a lot wrong with me

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