Right now it’s not as if I really want to die… But I don’t want to deal with anything, with walking talking… I don’t even want to fucking breathe for it feels as if I’m sucking up nothing but the putrid fumes of others. I’m tired, bored disheveled and unimpressed with everything that I see…. Save for one but even she can’t escape my heads frothing delusion as she gets wrapped up within my own falsely concluded melodramatic fantasies…. My fears and terrors find my only good and thirst for its purity and angelical beauty. It scares me how vividly I feel without fair cause.
~(My) heads spread like butter over bread~