Throughout the day...

and as I said...

Nine Forty Eight
Time to be fake and
I wonder what I am truly doing
with days that show new ways
to new wrinkles

But on my way here
I moved one of my fingers across the wheel
and I decided I wanted to write
about how I love sunlight going through my digits
turning my skin reddish-pink
then I realized I think that was the first time
such a thing happened
because before this,
I only had used artificial light during darkness
to create such an experience

My nails are painted black
for this time of year
Silly of me because I love them this way
I should do this more often
I should remain in denial
I should be true to myself
All of this at once
Why am I here?

I feel like an abandoned children's classroom
Or maybe I feel like a child abandoned in a class room
Watching all the special little projects falling off the walls

I don't belong here.
I feel like a Radiohead song (for the record I LOVE Radiohead).

I feel like nothing can or will ever help.

I never will have the "balls" to end it.
I cannot pray for death during sleep because I never pray so why would anyone/thing hear me now?
I will end up binging on misery for the rest of my days and never purging.
It's like I'm a puppet.
I'm not holding the strings that guide me/this.
I DON'T WANT TO BINGE ON MISERY.

"Why don't you get help?"
*smiles*
Help? No, no. You don't understand.
There is no help for something like this.
There is no help for someone like me.

Just distractions.
Just ...

I'm tired of not being believed about my Fibro.
I'm tired of ALL my physical problems that I have no complete control over.
I'm tired of people not understanding the mental hole I am.
I'm tired of people and tired of myself and I don't even know if I am a person to be included in this bunch.

I'm seriously considering the fact that I may be an alien.

Why when so many things seem okay, they really aren't?
I SHOULD BE HAPPY. LA LA LA BULLSHIT FUCKERY HAPPY. LA LA LA.

I wrote some miserable and some not so miserable shit on a text document at home over my couple days off last week but have not posted it due to the fact that I don't have internet hooked up yet there. I almost don't ever want it at home anymore. I just don't care. You know what I care about? Sleep. I just want to sleep. I want a giant rewind button even though I firmly believe that regret is a pointless emotion.

I have a hard time lately seeing pictures of myself. Alone or with people. Is that really me? How do others see me? Why is anyone chosen what they are chosen from skin to experiences?

I have only had one cup of coffee today. No food. If I do eat while I am here at work, it will be candy. Even though I have a lunch. I like to torture myself.

I want a cigarette but I won't bother. A) I am almost broke still, until the end of the month and B) It's been almost five weeks. WHY DO I EVEN CARE THOUGH?!

Piece of candy #1 consumed.

I need to sing.

Piece of candy #2 consumed.

I should be going to the bank for my bosses. I am procrastinating. I would walk on a day like today because the weather says so, but I am so drained.

I went to the bank.

I just want to be happy. Are my standards to high? How can such a low life have such high standards?

Swirls and spots on my skin
These patterns are mine
Damaged or not

Yep. Nope.

Simply put: I am not well. Yet I am able to talk to and help so many damn friends and other people. I cannot help myself and nobody can help me. I'm afraid to take medications because THEY NEVER WORK. I feel so trapped. I feel so fucking trapped. All this isn't a cry for help. It's just a cry. Like any other day. Tears fall from my face or I cry on the inside.

Things are supposed to be better now. I don't get it. I am disease.