being human is so delicate, it's disgusting. being always awake at night until i can hear birds outside makes me sick. my phone makes me sick. the best notification i get is the word of the day from my dictionary app. i get tired at just thinking of anybody so i try not to. i wasn't lying when i said the cure's discography on perpetual slap. (jesus fuck, how many years has it been like this???????????) i can't get myself to listen to anything else so much so that i'm starting to feel faint from it. and that's just the best part of my days. (or nights, i mean). is "whatever" an official adjective yet? i know it's childish, but i think it might be quite a feeling for me. i always tell myself to stop drinking, but if i didn't drink, i'd probably stay pissed at everyone all the time. no one can hold a grudge better than sobriety.
this has been such fitting melancholia. to think that i can trace back from my very first memory as to why things are the way they are now. why i am the way i am. i chose this. i'm afraid to even say that i fought for this life. this is just the way i wanted it. i wanted this.
i wanted this.
why did i want this?
