days like these: i feel incredibly disconnected from the world. nobody gets through to me, apart from my family. everybody else feels like an NPC in a game. friends come and go. wannabe writers have blogs that are clean, polished, and organised. i can’t guarantee you that i won’t be dead in a month’s time. hughie malone should start a religion. i would be a most devoted follower. we could sit around at a temple somewhere and trade inappropriate jokes.
i just want someone to talk to and be completely honest about how empty i feel. exhausted and unwilling to continue. not good enough, not pretty enough, too anxious. too heavy. when are you gonna lose more weight. those essays that will never get written. sweaty mornings on the train and watching commuters knock lifelessly into each other and make their way to the office. pencil skirts and blazers. a roadsweeper somewhere, all alone, back bent so out of shape, that you wonder how they manage to walk at all. i want out bcos it’s all too much. you’re always gonna love someone else more and think about them more. i am nothing to you. caught between wanting to be closer to you and wanting to cut you out of my life completely.