I hate myself. Same old same old. I could say that the devil is strong. I could say that I’m weak. Both would be true.
I’m sick, of being sick, and moping around about how much I hate reality and my life and how much I don’t want it like this.
I’m tried. I’m not sleeping because of the dramas, but I can’t find anything gripping to read – not that I’m looking hard.
I want to ask for help but I don’t. I don’t want to burden someone else, and I don’t want to say any of it out loud. That will change everything.
At these times I don’t know what to do with myself. Can’t pray, can’t write poetry, can’t sing – haven’t written a song in ages,and nothing’s suitable on my karaoke app. Don’t even know what kind of music I should listen to to go with my mood. Should I go with soft or something hard and fast. Just tried soft and it didn’t work, looking for something else – not finding it.
Sitting on the floor writing because I figure this will be the most comfortable right now. Still switching songs and skipping every single one. If I could dance well from my head I’d turn something up and go for it. Maybe I need to plug my ears with it. That would probably be better.
Penmanship looks like crap. Just switched genres because K-pop wasn’t doing it for me. Chrisette Michele. Cool. Sounds similar to a gospel artist I used to listen to. Used to. Can’t listen to those anymore really.
It’s after 1 a.m. … and I hate myself.