dead

i don't want to be looking at a screen in this harsh light but i don't know what else to be doing. i want paper but i don't have it. i left everything in the other room and i don't want to interrupt brett and rex bonding and talking sex stuff bc i know it can't happen if i'm around. now it seems also i have the toots. so there you go. i don't know why i'm still awake. i mean i do but do i ? i've been sick and wanted to not. jeebers cries how many of these pitiful journals can i write. how do i know if i'm even alive.





and when they find you alone asleep on the floor next to the beer can and socks they can blame you pretty much every time. what a mess what a sad display disaster.

i dunno do you comprehend how much space was left when i stayed here



every time i'm proud i'm proud of nothing. every statement disappoints.


i was proud for not being TOO MUCH for once. every night i don't is congratulations. every what night. every no night because i do so well until i don't. why have i gotta be a speech mess on top of all the rest of messes.

i felt like so many messes i wanted to keep away from your good open talking and i kept myself away. if i put myself over here and maybe fall asleep on the floor is it my fault ?

now i'm paranoid my friends hate me, how they waited for me to pass out to have their secret plans. maybe fucking maybe reading the journals i never got to.

okay but i just head a sleepy sound they said maybe i was wrong so
i'm wrong a lot

im so sick of writing this sad plot