Houston…heres my problem…

I HATE HATE HATE HATE HATE MY BODY.

I can feel everything. I dont want to feel the everything. Physically speaking.

Speaking of speaking. I hate speaking.

I hate hearing my own words in my head every morning telling, me that I’d prefer not to be alive. All because of numbers.

Its the monsters voice, but it speaks in my voice, there for I hear my voice….

And I cant stand to hear it. I hear it and listin to it. I listin to it and believe the words. I believe the words and follow what the words tell me. I follow the words and I hate it. I hate it, yet I do it anyway. I do it anyway, because I know no other way. I don’t feel as if I deserve any other way. Any other way, and it wouldn’t be the monsters way….monsters way or the highway.

If the highway is the ticket out of here, than why the hell am I to damn afraid to take the highway?

Its the unknown. The possible rejection. The failure I assume I will find. The outside of my world. The lack of comfort.

Hell in other words.

But its Hell here too isn’t it?

Houston, we have a problem!