I wish that there was something to write about but there is not. I’m so fucking sick of repeating myself.
Tomorrow is Thursday and Thursdays are always nice. The reason that Thursdays are nice is because sometimes on Wednesdays my mom brings me to church. Church makes me feel very sad because it reminds me of how alone I am and that makes me have feelings of panic and that makes me want to hurt myself so that’s what I do and when I do that I let everything out. Then the next day I have let everything out and I become an empty shell. There is no room to feel anything because my heart is a little vacuum. I have real scars now, real ones that turn dark purple in the sad I mean cold. They are the songs I don’t sing. From every fucked intention to the way I feel when I wake up in the middle of the night, I want to put the future in a box and retrogress.