I woke up over an hour ago, called in sick, and couldn't get back to sleep despite only first getting to sleep at 3 or something.

Shoot me.

"Every step I take I leave a small piece of myself behind. Soon there will be nothing left."

Why do I dread going to bed so much? I don't want to keep sleeping alone.

I'm trying, I fucking swear, to put together something. I tried writing, I tried thinking, I tried it all and I just want to try and stop. I can't breathe, my heart can't beat properly, I can't think, I can't type, I can't sleep, I can't stop thinking about this shit, I can't stop thinking about work, I can't stop thinking it is all worth naught. ( Read more... )

This was my aborted half-attempt at a HSC major art project.
( READ READ READ )

Consider this my resignation. Turn up the music, turn on the taps in the bathroom. It is no longer fighting a will to live, but more just the will to hold my breath. My stomach is churning and my eyes are sore. I can't sleep, I don't want to eat anymore, I don't even know... I'm just complaining. I am sick of being sick, sick of being tired, sick ( Read more... )

( This is my decline. )

Well, fuck it. Here is a generic angsty, angry livejournal post ( Read more... )

( Highs and lows. )

( I am going to hell. )