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Wednesday, January 09, 2008


As usual I am a wreck again. I spend hundreds of dollars on what is probably just hypochondria and buy very little peace of mind. I feel like I am forcing my inner self to stand up and be strong, like as if I were a well-oiled nicely engineered machine. It is my perception of my destiny, the echoes of the call to be strong for the us in my life.

When really there is no core about my abilities and nothing much to weave about because I am a fraud and a scam.

It is not easy to relieve stress about it because my serotonin levels are being regulated.

I feel like a fraying scratch-post on the inside. I am about to combust messily. I am so fucked up.
It is a bit painful to pick the threads of my insides now, to look at them and tell myself what is wrong and how to fix it. Conversation with myself is very difficult. I just want to be quiet.

I feel sick all the time. At this point my chest hurts and so does my arm. (I wonder what it really feels like when one is about to die.) I feel terrible.