Touch of death

Everything I touch falls to pieces and it’s getting old.

I woke up today hacking up lung butter…nice.

Have you ever been embarassed to have people look at you? I mean, in general?

You know that feeling you get when you have done someone wrong, or you know someone doesn’t like you, and then you have to be in the same room with them and you wish you could just shrink away. You can’t stand the tension…

…that’s how I’m starting to feel about everyone I know all the time.

I don’t even know if I have actually done anything wrong or if I just think that I am wrong in general.

I believe I am doing wrong, but it’s just in the fact that I sit and complain about how wrong I am…that doesn’t make sense.

Fuck.

Um…what if I’m some sort of weird multiple personality disorder kind of thing?

Or what if I’m posessed?

I keep referring to this other part of myself, and it seems like it’s thinking, it’s plotting against me…it’s some sort of intelligent life form.

Anything someone says about me that is good it will immediatly discredit.

Then it brings up a series of horrible things people have said about me since I was a child.

 

Fuck.

 

None of this makes sense.

I get so pissed off when I hear people say things like, "I love my life."

Why do they get to?

 

I’m too scared to kill myself, and I’m too tired to really live. What a bitch.

 

Everything he said about me was true.

I’m the biggest loser I know.

I have to spend all of my time with myself too…

How am I supposed to be happy about spending all of my time with a fucking loser?

fuck.