Ten minutes of nothing but writing. See for yourself what I have to say for today.
It touches my lips, and it burns. I pierce my lip every day, I'm guessing that's why. Having a fresh piercing to fuck with is superb, it always let's one know it's there, and let's me know I'm still alive, I'm still here, and that my lip is right there. It feels like the pain makes everything real, makes me cope.
I say makes me because if I wasn't forced to cope I'd be dead.
Fuels depression but also prevents it.
It's a funny thing really, while drinking it your fuckin' dandy, Whether your friends are present and there's a girl under one arm, and a drink in the other, and that's fuckin' wonderful, or your merely just sitting in front a keyboard aimlessly typing your thoughts as they run through your head and onto the page, a depressed drunken person doesn't exist, An emotional one sure, but not a truly depressed one. The depression comes when your sober. When it all actually gets a chance to sink in. The fact that the girl under your arm doesn't actually like you, she just wants to fuck. The fact that your writing is just shit, drunken rambling that might as well be squirting out of your asshole. That's what sobriety does. It's true realization of the hardships of an every day life.
I've come to realize I hate being sober because I hate real life. I get fucked up to escape from real thoughts. At least I have friends who are the same way too, so I don't have to drink, do drugs, and fornicate all by myself. I guess you can't fornicate by yourself but I hope you get my drift. I like the feeling. I like to forget. I turn to burning, cutting, and piercing myself to remind myself that everything is still real, but I still don't have to really think about it.
And that's really good.
I get to escape,
I'm always trapped in my own mind, well I consider it trapped anyway because I'm convinced I think like nobody else. I'm very negative, but most of the negativity never goes beyond my head, it just gets shoved to the back of my mind, where I tend to explode at a later date because of overload in one area of my brain.
I guess escape isn't really the right word, more like avoid. I avoid my real thoughts, and even the obligation to take my pills.
The pills might help, but there's so fuckin' many of 'em.
I feel like it fucks up my mind, making me not me.
If I'm a depressed, drunk and high fuck, then so be it.,
At least I'm still me, and not some sheep of society copied again and again and shaped by a pill I take every morning.
I didn't really mean that of course, but I can't think of anything else to sayt, i just go rt really drunk, and I guess i''m talking sshit for the sake of talking shit,. I guess it makes me a badass or something.
FUck if I know, I'm jhust typing.
It's not like anyone is going to read this anyway if they have expereice with any of my other writing. It's all depressing and probably kind of pointless. I can compare it to a ringing in ones ears. It's like it's there, and you notice it too, but it's a minor inconvinience so you ignore it. Fuck I can't even spell.
Don't drink vodka kids it makes you out to be a fuckin' idiot,