I’m sad.

I was isolated for so long I think it really fucked up my brain.

Even when I should be happy, I’m sad.

I used to be anxious, that was always there, but little happy moments have me at the verge of tears these days.

I feel lonely and nothing seems to change that. No companion or friend, not drinking or sex, nothing really changes what I feel.

I’m in love with death. How can anything have meaning in life once you’ve dated death? I danced with her, and fought with her. I fucked her. I laughed and cried with her. I changed and grew with her. I found my dignity after being cruelly humiliated by being with her. I comforted myself with her. She’s there for me when I see the world for what it is; broken and cold.

I wish I had something beautiful to say. I wish I could cry in front of other people. I wish someone wanted me to.

I think I may still be here almost out of spite. No one would really care if I died, I think if someone would, I would do it! How counterintuitive! Ha! But fuck it, you don’t care if I die? I’ll live then!

My medication is fucking with me lately. Either that or being in jail for 50 days has really fucked me up. I want to be angry about it, occasionally I am, but I saw so many people in stupid situations that it’s hard to get angry over. The cops, the crown, the law itself, all stupid… do I really have to tell you? Don’t you already know? I saw a guy trying to steal a bike near a metro yesterday. I thought about calling the cops and then I thought better of it. Even when you agree something someone is doing is wrong, the consequences are far too severe. People who call the cops are little bitches who have to facetime their husbands when they go out. Do they not know I have friends and they all know what they did to me!? For the rest of their lives they will know. And these are image obsessed people. Nothing more dangerous than a fat girl who thinks she’s pretty and has too much pride. She went to school with my sister (my sister was one of the pretty ones she was jealous of). I went to high school with the brother of the girl who just needed a big dick to fuck her. How’s that for a reputation? Fucking suburban losers. And the bull dyke… ouffff!

Hmmm anger. Did you read it? Meh I don’t really care. But it’s something to live for? Because when I take a step back, what else is there? Partys? Girls? I feel like there is no weight to it anymore. At least this has weight (pun intended). It has meaning. Value. Is it my reason to live?

They actually fucked me on 4% and won’t pay my premiums. It’s unbelievable to me how they can not insure the entire company and then say “we fixed it” when they clearly didn’t! I think I got under the bosses skin and they are just being irrational now. I’ll tell you whose skin I want to get under, his youngest daughter! The one that worked with us was very cute but the one still in school is fucking smoking hot. That girl’s a partier, I know it when I see one.

I’m glad I didn’t get stuck in that job though. Don’t get me wrong it was a good job, I even liked it (sans harassment), but I didn’t love it. I felt like such a yuppie all the time. I could have got stuck there. It was worth it as part of a package. I was doing it for love but when that love disappeared, it was evident that it wasn’t what I actually wanted.

It’s a job, right? Just a job. But most people just have jobs. Most people don’t really matter. It seems childish and immature of me to want more.

I need a nap.