I feel so subnormal. Abnormal I could handle, but this is a realization that I am not fit to live this life, that I cannot fight, don’t even wish to fight, and I’m just waiting for oblivion to swallow my head. More melodramatic bullshit. I don’t feel like I can handle a crisis right now. I’m not strong enough to rebuild the walls, not deal with people. Goddamn, why can’t I deal with people? This is easily the source of all my problems. I get all achy, shivery, dying. What do I do with people?

N ruined me, I think. My perceptions of relationships are incredibly warped. I can’t handle the phantom expectations sitting in my superego, so I just sit paralyzed and alone.

Trapped between death and suicide.

I cannot save myself, God, but I have [a] feeling I haven’t exhausted all [my mundane] resources yet. It would be so easy if you just fucking told me what to do. I am ill-equipped with figuring things out for myself. If I could have my way, I would just sit on my ass and scribble in here all day, fuck the rest of the world.

But it seems it is in my Doom to take the hardest of the paths. Like I’d rather suffer heinously if I must suffer at all, have to drink the whole drink if I’m even gonna bother to drink.

I should just close my eyes and sleep for the next two days. I don’t see how anything good could come out otherwise, at least, good enough to offset my suffering.

…At this point, I really think I’d rather be puking my guts out instead of sitting here, thinking of this stupid shit. Why am I such a goddamn gimp?

Nothing really matters at this point. I am so ready to just throw it all away, but something very visceral is holding me back. I can’t throw away anything, can I? Even if it’s possibly killing me.