Monday, December 05, 2005

Here Comes Little Miss Misery...

Worst ... fucking ... week ... ever. EVER. You hear me? EEEEEEEVEEEEER.

I could just go on and on. I really could. I haven't felt this shitty in a long damn while. I'm officially off my contraceptive patch, so now my hormones are all fucked up. The absence of the drug in my blood is making, like, the WORST fucking reaction with my Zoloft imaginable. It's like I'm not even taking the stuff anymore. Because I'm still feeling more fucked up than ever.

I'm a fat piece of shit. I'm at one of my heighest weights ever. Not that I've stood on a scale in months and seen the numbers ... I just feel like complete SHIT. Heavy shit, at that. I can't stop eating. I don't move. At all. It's like I'm doing every possible thing wrong and no matter how much I hate it, the subconcious mind doesn't give three shits. I'm so wound up in my own bludder-reinforced fortress of misery I could just vomit. Hell, that'd be a good thing. Purge out some of this lard from my gut...

I just generally feel like complete crap. I'm fed up with a TON of shit. I feel like my life is on a standstill again and it pisses me off. So much shit I wanna do ... shit I never wanna do again ... it's just all around me. I'm drowning in a big, steaming, pile of fucking horse shit. Fun.

I just want to scream ... just scream until my lungs bleed and then cry my eyes out in a dark corner. All this anger, hate, and misery, and I'm channeling it nowhere. I'm wound up so tight in it, it's become my own personal noose. I'm standing on my own gallows and have yet to yank the lever...

I'm so sick of all this ... for awhile I'm fine, only to JUST as quickly go back to not being fine again. It's like I can wander off a certain distance before I pull on my tether again. Fucking BULL. I'm too fucking miserable to even be suicidal anymore. I don't even want to expend the energy required to slit my own wrists. Maybe my method of suicide has switched to eating my fat ass away until I die of a stroke. It definitely fits the bill of slow and painful. The emotional scarring is certainly a plus.

I don't even know why I come here to blab on and on about the most miserable moments of my weak little life. Like anyone who reads here can do much of anything, aside from "Awww, poor baby!". Fuck me. Fuck my problems. Just fuck EVERYTHING. I'm sick of shit. All of it. I just want to jab a red-hot needle into my eye.

There's tons of very SPECIFIC things bugging the fuck out of me, but I just feel too god-damn pissed to go into detail. I might take an axe to my computer if I tried...

I'm gonna shut the fuck up for now and go back to what I was doing ... wasting my life away...

Fuck the world.

Current Mood: fed up
Current Music:
Evanescence - Tourniquette


Blogger `manx said...

Talk with me. We're all sufferring the same types of things. Use your rage and anger, don't let it screw with you. For instance, yeah, you can't make money selling your art but, hell, just do it for its own sake, so you can look on stuff and say "yeah, _I_ am in control of my misery and make it my _weapon_."

It's important to be malcontent because it drives one to seek better for oneself. But only if you don't let the dark forces consume you.

Doing anything tonight? Give me a call. 305-972-2787. Or anytime, really.

12:28 PM  

Post a Comment

<< Home