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buildings with a hundred floors,
spinning 'round revolving doors.
baby i don't know where they'll take me.

entries about chat links



breakaway
a short profile perhaps ?
a music player or hit counter ?
Wednesday, March 17, 2010 // 9:40 PM

Don't ask, don't probe. I'm dying already, so stop making me sick. I'm sick enough to die. I've been sleeping like a pig all day. Didn't eat breakfast and lunch. I don't have the strength to even sit up after I went home from school. All I did was shiver under my blanket and hope to become warm under two layers of blankets. No point. It didn't work anyway.

It's just life I guess. When everything is going wrong, your body defies you. Nothing you can do about anything anymore. Your life is crashing. All you can do is sit down cry and wait for death to claim another person. It's that hopelessly helpless, if you ask me. There's nothing else to keep me going anymore. Everything means nothing to me. I don't know how to do it anymore. If I can smile, I would. It's something not effortlessly done anymore. It's more painful than everything else. I'm counting down.

It's not something I can do. Am I not miserable enough? I know I'm stupid but I don't know why I can't do it. A few more months, then maybe I would be happier. Or at least he would. The headache it has cause isn't going away.