Bad Habit

So I feel this amazing urge to write and I dont know why. All I know is Iím at work and Iím still rolling between paranoid and chillin like a freakin perfect storm..

am I really sitting here - and suddenly I know Iím really sitting here and its no longer a question. That whole Good/Evil/Everyone Hates Me is all part of the trip. itís not real. Iím not a split personality. Itís just

Face Value Steph vs Internal Steph

I know now why people do drugs. But at the same time, I know why they dont. Because ive never had this access to my brain before. Not this part. Not this deep. And its outstanding and its terrifying. I want to see whats going to happen, but I want it to stop before anything does.

Its fucked its fucked its fucked.

And its fucking me up. I dont want to start to think about killing myself because Iím afraid what I think might actually happen and that idea in itself just goes to show me that I really dont want to die.

The small thread of hope that stephen will be with me is actually a little bit stronger than the fear that he wont. Which is odd. Which is pretty backards for someone like me. is writing all this down making me wose? Is it putting me too deep? Too intent? Is it just because Iím alone? And have I finally realized that the 2 structures ive put all my hope in arent really there? Have I finally figured out the joke? That theyre already weak and im leaning on something thats being held up by something else?

Why do I insist I need to be loved and taken care of to be important? Why do I insist? What will that do for me? its like building a sandcastle. The outside is so intricate and beautiful and leaves one with the impression that the inside must be fucking amazing! But in reality, all that the inside is is a mushed together mess of sand and seaweed and rocks and garbage and is the exact furthest thing from the idea of beautiful. Even tho the outside mask works for a little while, soon everyone will be in on the joke.

I cant believe im at work like this. Its not right. So not right. I need to leave. Close the gate.

Fuck you suki-uki and your ten oíclock bus.

I want to be gone I want to forget. I want to be missed. I want people to regret not loving me more. And those who did love me more I want them to regret not telling me. because thats really all I need. An intravenous drip of reassurance. Because my brain and my body cant make it by themselves anymore. Maybe they never have. Maybe they just kept sending out stand-ins. Like hunger dressed as confidence. Or fatigue looking like faith. But one glimpse at the man behind the curtain, the great and powerful Oz, and I see that hunger is hunger and fatigue is fatigue and fucked is fucked and thats where I am right now so I need to face it so I can get over it.

I have no idea how im writing this. For a second I think I can hear my pen spelling out the words its writing L-I-K-E-T-H-I-S

flash flash

the second I know, the second I dont.

Its cool but its not. I want it but I dont. Ten oíclock is too far away. I want to call I want to call

who would I call? Sam. Iíll call Sam.

Manicure manicure everyone wants a manicure. And of course the 20 minute massage gift certificate who doesnt speak a shit of english. Everyone is a monster in human form. And Iím just getting it now. And in a good way it gives me strength. Because if ive survived this far among monsters and didnt know it, think of how well Iíll do now that I know the truth. Iíve survived without knowing. So now that I know, life should be cake, right?

Caring about how people have hurt me doesnt seem worth the effort. Caring isnt worth any effort. Cuz caring only gets you fucked up in the end.

Squeeze my head, right between the eyes, wring it out, twist it, squish out the dishwater and bacteria and open it up and lay it flat and make it ready to soak up something else completely different.

Enjoy this. Experience this.

Fear this like youve never felt fear before. †fear the fear - and then know. "okay," you can say. "this is fear."

How will this end? Will I just wake up? Will it just stop? I just want to be myself and want nothing censored. I dont want to feel this kind of fear.

I finally know what it feels like to Roll.



I want it to stop.

But not too soon.

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