Ramblings

I think I'm breaking. I thought I was free of this, but oh, no. Get back in your bell jar, bitch, its where you belong. Oh yes, a Sylvia Plath reference, aren't we clever.
No, not at all.
I am so stupid, it isn't even funny any more.
Firework night, outside, bangbangbang. Stare at all the lights and feel nothing. You are dead.
Sleep all day to hide from the guilt that you should be doing something, anything, not just staring into space. Get a job. Be a productive member of society. Stop being a drain on resources. Stop taking and taking and taking like a black hole of desperation.
Spin around in a maelstrom of laughing and screaming and faces looming up out of the darkness to take you away.
Waste time.
Now I am nocturnal, life is easier. I work, when I can, which is rarely. It has taken me three nights to write 100 words. Only rambling pathetic self-indulgent words flow freely. Too freely, spewed out like poison, sickening everybody, lingering in the food chain, destroying the environment. Better out than in, they say. Not for you it isn't. I hurt people just by being alive. I cry at night. I never cry. It isn't my thing. I might scream and rage and attack myself, but I don't cry.

I haven't done anything 'stupid'. Not one cut, not one pill. I don't need any more pain. My stomach hurts contantly. My heart beats funny, aches through my chest. Head aches, lumps in my throat to choke me. Salt burns my eyes, my face. I can't breathe right. I'm not right. Why am I like this?
Whywhywhy?
Because you're pathetic. That's why.