out of smokes.


I feel so restless. I feel like there's something I need to say, something fighting in my throat that needs to get out no matter what my conscious deems. I feel like my mouth's been sewn up shut and like even if I tried to say or write anything, the words would've gotten all jumbled in my mouth and come out in a weird dyslexic vomit of nonsense and awkward self-pity.

I feel smothered during the day and I feel alone at night. I feel like I have to, like I need to write something inspiring and insightful, something I can reflect on and something that will one day change someone's life. I just feel like there's no right way of doing anything, not for me. I feel like if I tried the point would be missed and I'd end up deleting it within 12 hours. I'd feel so self-absorbed. Even writing this, I feel that this is too much about my stupid, aimless self and existence.

I want to break my feet off the way you'd break the chocolate ears off of an Easter bunny. You'd cave in the chocolate so easily and then either eat piece by piece or break it more in your hands and mix it with hot milk. I want to clip my fingernails down to nothing so that every time my hands touch something it hurts and fucking hurts. I want people to stare at the ugly grotesqueness of my fingernails more than the ugly grotesqueness of my body and myself. I want to cut my hair off shorter than my ears with only some bangs at the front. I want to do some drastic change that'll make everyone look a different way.

I want to do something and not have to be awake this early in the morning wondering what it is that's keeping me from sleep. I feel like I need to puke. I feel like I need to shit. It's 3:20 am. I feel like I need to sleep.

But the point is, the point to everything is, I just fucking can't.