Bye.

I don’t know what to blame this on. I haven’t written in what seems like a week, the last few days have been long. I’ve been trying to read books on love, because I have such problems with people and myself.

I just ate about 6 pieces of bread. I spend a lot of my free time wondering what reason I have to hate someone like me. I wish it were like that, where I could look at myself like another person. I don’t hate other people. I have moments of clarity where I realize that there’s really no reason to hate myself. I guess it’s more like I annoy myself, and I can’t get away from it.

Today I hung out with a kid who is full of himself. That phrase, “full-of-himself”? It really was made for him. He makes jokes, for himself, makes movies, for himself, has a girlfriend, for himself. A very self-centered guy (but we all have horrible, disgusting things about ourselves that give us no right to say that – everything is sterilized) and it’s a chore being around him. He loves himself so much.

Love. I used to wish I could love someone else, that I could kiss them and hug them and (I need to be held). Now I just want to figure out what the hell it’s like to have love for me. I hate myself, and I feel if I say it enough maybe it’ll go away.

I push everyone else away from me when I get like this. I just need to be alone, I want and crash and burn and die, and I don’t want to effect anyone around me. I want everyone to be happy, and I’m not trying to be so unselfish or anything, I just really love people happy. It makes me happy to see happiness.

I hate myself. I’ve been reading too many books about demons and their ploys and etcetera. This is so pointless, to hate anything, and I hate myself. This isn’t some demon pushing it in my skull, this hatred that I cannot get over.

(right here was 2-3 paragraphs of more of this, but my computer got unplugged, and deleted it.)

In the deleted section, I remember writing how God is here, but he can’t hug me (he has before, but that’s another story). Really just he can’t kiss me, and it shows that I’m just lonely, and I wrote “Who The Hell Could I Tell That Would Know What The Hell To Say.”

Anyway, I’m going to poop real quick. I feel sick.

I don’t know what to say. I feel very numb, I feel very chilly. I remember writing that I need someone to tell me that they love me because if they love me, how does that give me any right not to?

I remember that made a lot of sense when I wrote it. I still feel numb. I don’t understand why my prayers aren’t being answered right now, and what I mean by that is why aren’t I fixed? Why am I so ugly inside lately, why all this hate when all I truly want is it out. I feel so sad, so pitiful, I feel like I should be felt sorry for, for the way I feel.

I feel sick!

To my stomach!

I wanna be purged. Why aren’t I being purged.

Why isn’t in raining?

Pointless to ask these stupid questions, pointless to cuss into the air (oh, but it felt so good) pointless to wipe your ass, pointless to do anything on this amazing, unanswered world, in this universe, where things are just perfect (aren’t they) and I guess it’s stupid to wonder why I’m not – why aren’t you? Why are there murderers? WHY ISN’T IT ALWAYS SUNNY!

BECAUSE, THAT’S NATURE YOU FOOL, and it has it’s patterns, and it works.

If I leave my ass un-wiped, bacteria will form, and I will feel worse than even now. I think I should wipe my ass. I think, although all is just totally worth everything but it feels like nothing a lot, it has a point, doesn’t it.