[i said, 'water.' expecting the word to satisfy my thirst.]
i typed out about 400 words that describe me completely. then i erased them. you figure me out. i don't really like myself anyway.



shit. that feeling is back. in my stomach. it's tentwentytwo now, even though the post time says sevenfiftyfive. i did all of that earlier and then did a little nothing and now i'm back. i really don't know why i have so much to put down here. when i read over it all, it seems so unlike my intentions. i wish i could just write that i am deeply in love... with depression. and everything dark and unalive. i don't want to be like this. and i dread rescheduling an appointment to talk to someone about this. all i really want is to drag a blade across my skin enough times so that anything that ever meant something would drain out of me and i can sleep always with my meaningless nothings. i'm not supposed to say that. i'm not supposed to acknowledge that any reason for my exsistence can be opposed without much thought. i'm supposed to stay posi! i'm a sarcastic bitch. last night, after wandering around the mall for too long, i routinely and silently walked up the stairs, stripping my outer layers of clothing, entered the room [entering is different from walking into... entering is more like... floating with a single destination] i crawled into bed. i ignored all of nick's attempts to figure out 'what's wrong' and eventually fell asleep. he is so amazing to just lay there for hours wating for one answer. waiting for anything. i am lucky. i wont forget it again.
- posted by angela @ 7:55 AM