Psychosis Mitosis

I hear music. I swear. I don't know what but it sounds like the radio is on. It's freaking me out, because the radio is not on.

The week has hardly begun and I'm freaking out about working on monday (that's a week from now). But it will work out alright.

I have no doubt that I will survive this and get out at the other end. It's just the simple fact that I don't look forward to pain, you know? And this will sting a bit. But this too shall pass, I guess. And just shit like money, you know? How is that shit going to work out? Hell... Stresses me out. I hate money.

It still bugs me that there is so much I missed. Or overlooked. Or ignored. I don't know which. Bugs me a-fucking-lot. Feels like I didn't even try, ya know? Feels like I spent half of the time trying to create a distance to show that I was my own person, that noone changed me. Stupid little fuck. Better ways to do that. And now I just have memories of me passing up good things out of some sort of stupid sense of pride.


It is interesting how little everything has changed in my heart these past months. It feels the same. The base is the same. It hurts the same. Not as much (or maybe I am used to it), but it is still there. Sometimes I have to go look for it. Most of the time it comes looking for me. And in some ways I welcome it. We are becoming friends, of sorts. But I have to keep it away. It can't visit me too often. It will wreck me.
But in some ways it feels different. It hurts different. But I don't really know what the difference is. I guess I will find that one out one of these days.

You are a hard drug to quit, cookie.