i'm mostly just noise, cigarettes, metal, and self-loathing waah waah club bullshit.

I always hope that no one reads my stuff.

I don’t think that anyone cares that much.

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Someday these fragile pages, on a machine that could self-destruct at any second will………self destruct.

Never to be recovered?....

Maybe our science will be lost.

Our technology overlooked.

Our prized possessions…worthless and misunderstood.

I could be frozen in my space this very second.

No creature could understand or realize how complex each day has been.

No creature could give a shit.

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Right now, today-I want to scream at all the things in life that are so incredibly annoying.

How drinks are left.

The day is long.

My hair won’t grow.

Things take too long. I sat on the computer mostly.

Trying to focus on the art of it all.

I hate the fact that work follows me home.

I love the fact that I’ve perfected typing efficiently with a cigarette in my left hand.

I like how lines make a line.

I like it.

And no one gives a fuck.

…or even knows what I’m talking about.

 I know that I will never have anyone to take care of me when I’m sick.

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A new page.

Don’t you know who you are by now, miss markle?

I mean, I mean, I mean, I mean, I mean, I mean….

Surely you don’t think I’ll accept any old answer or explanation

Don’t think I’ll be the subservient victim to your old tricks

I’ll never follow suit.

I’ll never be the one to sit aside and wait for unreasonable expectations.

I’m going to be a force to be reckoned with. Just you wait.

I’ll show you what’s what…

And who can throw a tantrum.

I won’t even need childish tactics.

My wit will conquer all.

Just you wait.

You sly son of a bitch.

Weaving me into a web of your fantasy land.

I’m quick.

Fuck you, I’m quick.

You don’t really understand or know…

If you did, I wouldn’t be feeling so out of sorts.

I wouldn’t question my sense of being.

I always trust you to take me in and take me home.

I’m leaving the nest lover.

I’m calling all sorts to see me through.

That means every depth of myself.

You’d take it as something sinister.

As you always do.

I won’t open up about this.

I’ll just sulk in my own silence and dissatisfaction.

fu ck it.

I won’t think about it at all.

Once again.

I’ll shut it out.

Hope for self satisfaction.

What goes in must come out.

Equal portions.

Small bites.

Hair that won’t grow.

Hope.

Pray.

Think.

Sleep.

Smoke.

Hope praythinksleepsmoke.

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I feel slightly sick. Slightly sick.

I should just go to sleep.

Stop this nonsense.

I feel like I’m sinking so far down that it’s awful.

Just so awful down here.

I need  a quick change.

A change of scenery.

A change of heart.

Like so many nights, I lay alone regretting the evenings past.

Boredom is a curious friend.

The kind of friend I hate to greet.

My life is just more noise and nonsense.

Nonsense.