Wednesday

 Halfway there. Didn't sleep. Head too full of thoughts. Tried to listen to a sleep hypnosis meditation. Didn't work. Tried to sleep outside on the patio while it rained. Didn't work. Got way too sweaty. Climbed back into bed. My charge for the next two nights decided to hop on the bed and snore and fart. Not exactly calming. I know it will pass. I know it will. These past few weeks, months, have felt detrimental to my mental health. Why? Meds, work, family, expectations, friends, society, the world at large. Use the tools I have. Don't think about slamming into a concrete barrier on the way to work. Don't think about getting out of the car and walking into incoming traffic. Don't think about how deep to cut to lose blood faster. Don't think about strangling the next person who calls me ma'am. Don't think about killing other people. Even if they deserve it. Just go to work. Feed myself. Draw. Call someone. Try to sleep. Repeat until death. 

How can I change careers now? What if I end up hating the next job even more? What if my memory gets so bad that I can't hold any job? This doesn't stop horrible people from 'succeeding.' I can do hard things. But I am stuck; I need Baphomet or some other higher power to tell me what to do. I can't make good decisions right now. I can't, I can't, I can't, "can't never could!" my father's voice chimes in. My friend A told me that he doesn't have bad days, just hard days. Coming from the man who performed CPR on his girlfriend with a bullet in her head. He called me as it was happening. How can he be here, smiling and laughing, climbing up on the roof of the house he was abused in smoking a vanilla cigarillo? Would my loved ones do the same if I left? I don't want to leave a mess to clean up. 

Another friend K observed, "you say a lot of 'I should' or 'I need to,' when there comes a point that you need to just do it." okay thanks Shia LeBeouf. Don't you think I know that? Don't you think I know how insufferable I am? Don't you think I know I complain too much? Don't you think I know how hypocritical I am? 

I think my hypersexuality was covering up this sadness, emptiness. I can't feel empty if I'm being filled up with cock. I can't think about the hard days if I'm gagged, blindfolded, whipped and beaten. I can't imagine becoming a grease stain on the highway when I'm pounding someone into the floor. Even my sexual tastes became more extreme to combat the even more extreme thoughts that I have to stifle. Keep my head up. Just go to work. Feed myself. Draw. Call someone. Try to sleep. Repeat until death. 

Edit: these teenage mood swings are ROUGH. I'm listening to Twenty One Pilots again.