I’m still here.
The difference a gun and a bullet could make..
I could have done it a thousands times over by now.
The self-destructed man feels alienated, utterly alone. He’s an outsider to the human community. He thinks to himself ‘I must be insane.’ What he fails to realize is that society has, just as he does, a vested interest in considerable losses and catastrophes. These floods, wars, famines, and quakes meet well defined needs.
Man wants chaos. In fact he’s got to have it; depression, riots, murder, all this dread. We’re irresistibly drawn to this almost orgiastic state created out of death and destruction. It’s in all of us. We revel in it.
Sometimes its hard
I’m so scared to just talk freely in fear something negative will happen..
Relationshit.
A little more than 24 hours..
nothing even makes sense anymore
I’ll never be good enough no matter what..
I don’t know why I cry over things that I’ve known for the longest time.
honestly if i died right now i wouldn’t care. no one would miss me.

