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Mental m�lange
2004-04-25 :: 10:11 p.m. I like running my fingers through my knotted hair. It hurts to pull them through, but there is satisfaction in the pain. I like to see the hair fall out as I struggle to untangle the mess. I am not doing my hair any favours by this, but I still continuously do it. Reminds me of my adventures of popping non-existent pimples and biting the inside of my lip until blood gushes into my mouth. Pretty pain is what I would call it. Something that hurts, but comforts at the same time. I know it's a negation, but somehow it makes sense in my mind... --- My mass continues to become more massive. I am massive. It's getting to the point of ridiculousness. I can't even run anymore because my weight puts too much stress on my knees. I miss running and I miss working out lots. It made me feel better about myself and I also felt healthy. Now I just feel lazy and greasy. I am a pimple. --- Where can I run to? When do I get to escape? Why is everyone surpassing me? Why are they meeting their goals, desires, and expectations, while I am lost amidst a plethora of self-misery? Everyone left me for so long. They are coming back soon. Just a few more days until they're back. I won't be a social outcast for too much longer. My friends will save me. They must save me or I will wind up losing it completely. I want to turn back the hands of time and start over. I want to go back to when I was 13. Before this whole bloody mess began. I want to be a teenager and do teenager things. I want to excel academically. I want to love and be loved. What the fuck is wrong with me?
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