i'm still at home. i should be at work, but um. i've been having a rough morning. a lie-down-on-the-bed-&-stay-perfectly-still sort of morning, filled to the brim with all the usual haunts. fuck fuck fuck i feel like someone pulled the winning lottery number out of my head & left me penniless. everyone is an enemy- if i think about any single individual i focus in on how they hate me, or why. i take solace in the fact that some among my internal cast of characters love me; fruitlessly of course, with no hope for salvation, but still. it is nice to know...fuck. fuck i don't care. i've got angels & androids ghosting through me, bezoars & quicksilver. i lied down in the shower for a few hundred hours waiting for the artificial rain to beat them out but here i am torn piece from piece by the apparitions of my life.
i'm not alone, but i'm not plural. its rough for me.