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Oh Jesus.
The Gods.
Of Olympus.
Have Abandoned me.
I don't know why I keep ******** saying it.
It has nothing to do with me.
I guess I just like Kratos for all his madness, and all his sadness.
There is just something about broken people that I am just so dearly fascinated with.
They're so human in all the ways that I myself am lacking.
A conscience.
Is it really the answer to all of my problems?
I'm getting really good at faking it.
David helped a lot.
He's dead.
We all die.
I know he's dead.
I keep ******** seeing him though.
He's smothering me.
When I close my eyes and when I open them.
He speaks to me and I try to ignore it.
Who needs the advice of a dead man?
My headphones broke today though.
There's no way to tune him out now.
I'd like to say at least I'm not alone anymore, but I know he's not here.
I know I've probably lost my mind.
There's just nothing I can do about it.
I have therapy today and I seriously considering speaking up.
He caught me staring off into the distance once.
I lied in his face.
I really used to not enjoy lying to people.
I never understood why when I was a kid, but now I do.
I don't enjoy things being so ******** easy.
I don't enjoy not having some sort of emotional pull when I lie.
I don't enjoy it and yet it's the only thing I have ever known.
Is it really so bad for me to think about suicide at this point?
I mean I'm sure everyone considers it every now and again.
But does anyone actually mean it these days?
I never expected myself to live past thirty.
I thought it was going to be all my of medical problems, but I was wrong.
I was wrong about a lot of things.
Today I was struggling to find reasons to continue caring about my friends.
David my new imaginary friend I guess constantly tries to get me to.
He wants me to fake it.
I just think if I'm faking it all the time then they'd love a lie.
How am I supposed to learn joy through something like that?
It makes me angry just thinking about it actually.
I punched another hole in the wall.
I really gotta stop doing this.
My mom will never get her security deposit back.
It's one in the morning now.
Christine is here.
She hugged me and I always forget how much I love hugs.
I can feel the emotion behind it usually.
Especially with her.
She's playing The Last of Us.
She's almost done with it.
If I could spontaneously combust right now I'd do.
I want to be hurt badly right now.
I've been stabbing pins under my nails lately.
They're already stubs so it isn't even difficult.
There is worse I can do to myself I'm sure, but it wouldn't be as fun.


I forgot to post this damn thing.
It's just been sitting here for like two hours.
Christine is leaving.
She has piano stuff to do tomorrow.
She said she might visit me again.
Now that Charles stopped visiting me she's the only one who does.
Even if it's only at night.
This is probably the only bonus of us being insomniacs.
So much free ******** time.
Unless of course you're unhappy.
Then all this free time gets wasted doing things in search of happiness.
Things you can probably never be proud of.
Things you'd ******** up your own memory just to forget.
Like always with my luck though.
The bad s**t pours out eventually.
And I remember the wrong ******** things.
It seems every time I decide I can't hate myself more something comes up.
I guess it's good David's ******** following me.
He was always good at helping me ******** pretend.
I don't know how long I can put up with this s**t.