Blood, guts and chocolate cake.

Internal conflict. 

Things are getting too fucking difficult. And I have yet to pick up my guts to face myself so I’m still like hiding in this small little bubble while Cristina does the stuff. I don’t know what I’d do without her. Maybe I would have been better off without her, who knows. But she’s a part of me, you can’t just rip her off my life, ’cause then I wouldn’t be me, oh that’s just messy.

Sometimes I get so confused by myself, like “why in the world would you wanna do that?” and “what the actual fuck I can’t believe that just happened” and shit like that. This is one crazy bitch.

I don’t know why you have to do that all the fucking time. I can understand when people pretend to care when they don’t, but why do you pretend to fucking hate that is just fucking brainless. Maybe you really do. I don’t know. Okay I don’t really wanna know anything at all alright just keep me shut in this room forever I don’t give a fuck. I don’t see a need of me getting out of this room at all.

The last time I had a normal verbal conversation with someone was probably slightly more than a week ago, with myself.

I hope I don’t forget how to talk and meet people out of the house.

It’s sad when the thought of your own existence is nauseating, you know? 

And people started listening to Imagine Dragons and going all “omg they are so good” and blahblahblah and I’m just here like aklaslnmasklfn I LIKED THEM FIRST MOTHERFUCKERS. Okay.

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