Very, very depressed. Whatever pops into my mind.

Last names are despicable
First names are a nuisance

No two clouds are ever the same
No two waves are ever the same

My feet are roots
My body is a stem
My head is the flower
My hairs are the petals

The intangible tumor in my mind is named Misery.

If I pick the skin around my nails, things will be better. I try to make it all even. No parts sticking up. I don't care if any parts are redder than pink. It's still smooth. Smooth is better. Smooth is better. Smooth is better. Tiny balls of blood will clot and wash away. No worries. No worries.

Cup. A teacup. Soft clank to a saucer.

I'm done with life but apparently it's not done with me.

I love one of my best friends ever, Jill. She is talking to me as all this random shit pops into my mind.

J just texted me and now I want to cry.

Forget whatever flows into my head. None of it matters, really.