I feel unwarranted dread.

Media and food—pacifiers for dealing with life. Analgesics to soothe the pain, to treat only the symptoms but not the cause.

Lacking intention. Lacking thought. Lacking foresight.

Calm. Conscious. Present.

:)

Driving myself insane.

I cannot fathom a second in which I can have some sort of calm. My mind insists on causing maximum carnage and I have no way of stopping it.

My brain is overloaded. I can't think— I can't do anything but think. A thousand thoughts per second. I want to do everything right now.

Drained.

And who cares, at the end, if you live or die?

I feel like I'm regressing.

Static— useless and ever-present.

There is joy in inducing happiness in others.

I’m always desperate for something or someone to distract me from myself. It’s an aching need that I wholly despise.

I crave the person I once was. It’s like craving hot tar down my throat.

A false memory, or perhaps Deja vu. A brain worm, either way.

The urge to blast music into my ears is maddening.

Rot starts and rot ends— one for the other, rot for rot.