i feel like everything ive ever felt, all the pain and shit thrown at me that i consistently shove away and bottle up constantly has made me hateful. and bitter. and it blows. i push away unintentionally the ones that matter and flood in the ones that leave in an instant for fear of losing the ones i need because I think they’ll leave anyways. ive noticed i speak less now. i worry more subconsciously. i sleep even less. i leave the house less. hallucinate more. panic more. Im afraid to actually sleep lately. i have this reoccurring dream where im free falling into eternal darkness and that I cant escape. ive been eating less, and still managing to find ways to make myself feel emptier. it’s like I have this sick obsessive satisfaction for the feeling I get being utterly empty. i dont purposely do anything. it happens. and im honestly sorry it does. cause feeling anxious over dying and breathing and sleeping and leaving and doing anything alive is killing me. and it’s getting old.
Boys and girls suck
I’m going to be alone and single and just eat my troubles away