i don't know what that means. i just know i hate being forced to write. i hate having to write. and people giving me due dates and it has to... i'm tired of thinking about it. i am tired of being a procrastinator. i'm tired of being tired and sad.
i want to quit everything - again. maybe it wouldn't be so bad if i felt like someone actually cared about me or what i do or don't do. i know i hide myself away, but i can't take anymore rejection. sometimes i wish i would just offer myself up as a sacrifice to be discarded to see if i could handle it or what would become of me.
i play the victim all too often. poor pitiful nothing.
i know the truth and i hide from it. if i don't look up maybe it won't see me. i'm afraid. i want to feel safe. somewhere. i'll hide under my covers and burrow my face in my pillows, but maybe there's spiders in there.
my head hurts from scrunching up my face. from trying not to cry. from crying. from wishing there was some human connection and not just desperate techno ramblings and searching for validation on the world wide web.
i sigh. heavily. and tell myself to get back to work. that is all i have for now. and the beastie boys in sounds from way out.
