I have nowhere to go, I have nothing to do. My hobby is non-monetizable. I can’t make a living off my craft. Poetry is not a necessary good for human survival. Or, not much is needed. Very not much. I am obsolete.
I can’t study.
My coworker harassed me at work all day. He deserves a bullet to the head.
So many people do.
I am tired of being within the lines. But I have to be.
OCD is insane. It IS mild. It CAN be. You’re a piece of fuckass.
OCD can be mild. Shit yourself. You stupid terd.
What I do.
I don’t want to change the world because that risks damaging it. People would get angry at me.
But any damage done to people is probably a step in the right direction.
I can’t win that one either.
The worst part: No one listens. No one ever will. I won’t receive the help I need.
You may think it will sound bad but maybe it won’t.
I cried twice in the car on the commute home today. Once on the way to work. In the car, that is. Driving.
Dad is keeping himself busy. He doesn’t’ have schizophrenia anymore? (?). Is he okay? I am so worried about him.
I’m worried about baby brother.
There’s nothing to do. There’s no reason to be alive.
This is so pointless. I’m not depressed. But someone please solve the problems.
Everyone spies on me.
I’m leaving the window blinds open to help fight my paranoia. It takes time. A LOT of time. So meaning it takes years to heal. Fuckass. Remember that. Fuckass.
I’ll be back.