So I forgot I even had this thing until I was trying to find an email I thought I had saved. I can’t find the fuckin email anywhere on my account but I found this so I guess it wasn’t a total bust. I’ve been awake for 42 hours. Idky but I’m not tired. I fucked around on Facebook for a while til I got bored with that too. I can’t seem to stay on track at all lately. My focus has been complete and utter shit (just like my memory). My mind just bounces from one thing to another in the middle of a thought.
FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK! Stupid ass laptop. I just typed up a whole fuckin thing and it just like fuckin deleted itself or something. Now my racing mind has to try to remember wtf I just typed. Honestly, I have no fuckin clue because my concentration is practically non-existent. So much so that my brain isn’t even comprehending its own fuckin thoughts. How fuckin fucked is that??
So I am maybe kinda sorta a little bit manic at the moment. Maybe that’s why I can’t fuckin sleep. Idk. I took sleeping meds and I was still fuckin awake. Oh well, I got a lot of shit to get done anyways. (Notice how much of it is actually getting done right now? Uhhhhhh NONE.) When I’m like this, when my mind is moving way to fast for my mouth to keep up, and I am very easily distracted, I always said that the hamster on his wheel inside my head took an adderall. I finally gave him a name. It’s Pokey after Lisa’s guinea pig on The Simpson’s. Why not. After all we did name our dog Maggie…. Omg, did ya’ll know that if the Simpsons aged that Maggie would be my age? Can you believe that show has been around for 28 fuckin years? Like holy fuck. I also noticed one day when I was manic that I know a lot of fuckin songs and that there is a song for pretty much every little thing in the world. I noticed cuz one day like no matter what someone said it made me think of a song. There were so many that I started writing them down. My list was well over a page long. Do ya’ll have any idea how fuckin irritating it is when you got like 9,000 different fuckin songs stuck in your head at once? Well if not let me tell you; it’s annoying as fuck to the point where you just wanna stick your finger down your throat and puke up all the lyrics. Clear em out of your body somehow. That or a power drill to the head. Let them drain out slowly. Might relieve some pressure at the same time. Two birds. One stone. But yeah so it’s like a million voices singing different shit on loop over and over an over again.
I keep fuckin losing shit too and idk where the fuck it’s all being lost to. I had a brand new pack of cigarettes with only 2 missing out of it and they vanished. And my ipod is god only fuckin knows where. I would ask him but his answers to me lately have really been testing not only my fuckin patience but my faith as well. I mean the shit has to be in this house somewhere. Maybe my bed was hungry and it ate my stuff. That reminds me that I still have yet to find my vampire fangs. I think I’m just going to go order a new set. That way if the other ones ever fuckin show up I’ll have a spare set…. Claire lost the little ball for one of my piercings. It’s too bad cuz it was cute as hell. But shit happens. Only problem with that is I keep forgetting to put a different one in. And it’s a pain in my ass cuz I gotta use fuckin pliers to get the damn thing in! And two of my other ones are currently in backwards because the holes started to close up and that is the only way that they were getting back in there. Hospitals suck dick always making you pull shit out all the damn time. I had to re-pierce one of my nipples too. I wanna get my nose pierced. I said I would never get any facial piercings but wtf why not. It shouldn’t be too noticeable whenever I decide to take it out. I want a couple tattoos too. The one I’ve been wanting for years of the broken heart stitched and safety pinned back together. Then I want to get a Fleur-di-lis on my wrist. Awww shit look out. New me is comin. And I got the new nickname of Trouble because for one reason or another I always seem to be in it. Man, I am telling ya’ll that they put shit in the food at the hospitals cuz I didn’t even eat that much and I gained 11 fuckin pounds in the last month! I gotta put a halt to that shit like immediately and reverse it. Otherwise this psycho bitch ain’t going to be a happy fuckin camper I can tell you that much right now….
Omg did I have a point to this endless rambling bullshit? I should do this more. I gotta write in my computer journal more. It helps. And I LOVE my journal journal, especially cuz I can do different crazy shit in it and draw pictures of really fucked up shit but sometimes it’s just too damn hard. When my brain is going at warp speed my hand can’t keep up. I can type pretty fast tho so at least I stand a shot when on the computer! Idk. But seriously, like did I have a fuckin point to all this or is it just a jumble of words that I self-consciously puked up all over the fuckin place? Is it bad that I can’t even tell the fuckin difference anymore? Like do I legit have something of significance to put out there or am I just rambling on like a fuckin lunatic? Most likely fuckin lunatic at this point I’m sure…. I guess I should start watching wtf I say less someone decide to have my ass committed for the rest of my natural existence. And then some. But I guess in a way not only does this help me but maybe, just maybe, there’s one person out there who this shit might help. Even if it’s just a little bit….
Like, did I ever talk about the cutting? Like I was addicted to cutting myself for some fucked up reason or another. Triple bladed razor, exacto blade, my pocket knives, whatever I felt like bleeding all over at that particular point in time. And especially the more I did it the worse it got. Every time I cut was worse than the time before. And it almost becomes like this fucked up ritual. I didn’t even really feel that shit anymore. I mean I started cutting to feel something, anything at all. I either was feeling absolutely nothing on the inside and wanted to feel something, anything at all, or I had so much inner torment and pain that I chose to cut because at least physical pain I knew how to deal with…. But it was to the point where I was cutting, deep, and rubbing 90% rubbing alcohol into it to try and feel something. I still couldn’t. So that’s when it went from expressing my pain physically to it becoming some fucked up release for me. It wasn’t about the pain anymore cuz well, I didn’t fuckin have any. It was more about the sight and the feeling. It was almost like a fucked up high to me or some shit. I can’t explain it really. Well, I guess I kinda can. But it’s fucked up. I’m fucked up. A perfect imperfection I am. If you want to stop reading here feel free…. When I would cut watching the blood slowly rise to the surface of my skin was exhilarating to me. Seeing the little red dots connect and form a single line. Seeing the crimson color spill out over the edge of the freshly made cut, feeling it’s warmth dripping down my arm, or my leg, watching it splash into the sink or onto the bathroom floor creating little droplets and blood pools everywhere. Something about all that created a sense of calm that would wash over me. Completely take hold of my body and mind. In a fucked up way that bullshit was soothing to me. (Told ya’ll I was fucked in the head. For those who unwisely doubted me, there’s your proof right there. That alone qualifies me for a straight jacket. You think they could get me a pink one? I might be fuckin crazy but I still want to be fashionable god dammit….) Anyways, I still get the urge to do it occasionally. I’m not gunna lie. But I just tell myself that I’m too old for that shit. Not to mention that given the steady incline in severity over the years, there’s a good chance of bleeding to death. (One of them bleed for well over an hour one time….) Plus, I now have scars for the rest of my life that I can’t hide. When I tan they show up even more. I’m not trying to add any more.
Oh! So I learned this new thing that I think everyone should try. Especially if you’re struggling with your self-esteem. I’m pretty sure it’s called giving yourself positive affirmations or some clinical shit like that. Yeah, they make the most simple little fuckin thing sound all big and complicated. It’s like just cuz they spent a lot of money on an education they gotta flaunt their big vocabulary’s and make people feel stupid. Anyways, I digress. That was a little bit off topic. But yeah, so you stand in front of the mirror and look at yourself and say positive things. It’s actually pretty difficult at first, especially if you hate yourself. But it gets easier! I promise! I usually tell myself things such as, “You are beautiful both inside and out. You deserve to experience true happiness. Love yourself more and allow others to love you.” Things like that. Just basically giving yourself compliments. Now if you’re a cocky son of a bitch doing that should be no problem for you. However, it would make you even more of a fuckin asshole than you already are. So in that case, go fuck yourself. Read someone elses shit. Confidence and cocky-ness, two totally different things btw. Don’t mistake one for the other.
Huh. So this thing stopped counting my words at 996 and that was quite some time ago. I wonder why. That’s a random fuckin number. Someone pull that out of their ass or something?
I have now officially been awake for 2 days. Just hit 48 hours. Wonder if I’ll beat my own record. It was 68 one time when I was in high school. I forced myself to go to sleep out of sheer fuckin boredom. I had hung out with all of my friends, smoked a shit ton of weed (which should have made me sleepy but it didn’t), gone to the lake, and had listened to like every CD I owned. Some of them more than once. How is it even possible for me to take sleeping meds then be awake for so fuckin long? What’s wrong with me?
Oh yeah, I’m me. A Perfect Imperfection.
sparklesinwonderland 