i thought about drowning myself in the bath tonight. everything was going fine today, i was happy listening to music for the first time in a while, trying to relax. i cleaned quickly and the room felt a little less gross. i laid down and took a nap and when i woke up i realized it was 4pm and the day was half over. time flies. that's what it's been feeling like a lot lately. its slipping too fast from my grasp and i feel like i'm missing out on some delayed memo. i spend my days waiting for each hour to pass, until i'm off the clock, and once i am, i come in to a room that rarely gives gives me any sleep any more. i don't remember the last time i had to hold back the feelings pouring down, but i guess everything just hit me tonight. i'm scared she's pregnant. i don't want her to die. i don't want to hold another animal in my arms as it takes its last breath. i don't want to watch it happen anymore. i'm scared we're going to have to find another place to live, because things here are ringing a similar bell to the last place we kept shelter in. once that weekly special sign goes up and rooms get renovated, i know what comes next. there is no option for miles. i don't want that struggle anymore. i'm scared to be in our car. its getting rougher and i'm terrified it's going to blow up, or die on the road. i'm scared for my mother to be in it alone. everything was looking up, and then it just came right back down. the gravitational pull of the heaviness and gloom that we bear down here was just too strong. i don't know how to break out of this anymore. i've been wanting to, needing to write, to release, but what is there to say? still the same shit i've said before. i'm empty, running through motions with a deeper sense of boredom and hate for my own image. i don't want love, but i miss being touched, even if the times i was touched wasn't genuine or at its fullest capacity. i miss talking to someone, but i get bored or defensive or sensitive when i do find someone to. even writing this, the emotion before has passed and now i'm just tired and sad and annoyed with what i'm writing. who cares? who's going to read this? who would even check up on me if i was telling them this to their face a week later? i'm okay being alone. its fine. it hurts but it's for the best because i don't believe i will ever heal. i am my own damaged goods, and i'm okay with that. i just need to kill the last remaining bits of myself that is still hopeful. romantic. wanting. needing. dumb. i need to kill the sensitivity so that i can fully float through the bad that continues to always surround me. including myself.

6/28/15