I’m definitely riding one of those up things on the bi polar stuff because no matter how drunk I am, and i’m not going to say I’m not and wasn’t when I decided to go to the booze shop.

All the messages I’ve sent to whoever and whatever I’ve said, I’ve felt the pull of the Sad but I just don’t can’t have the ability to hurt myself.

It’s strange when it’s there and you know it is but, to be all poetic on it, it’s as distant as the sun.

I almost want to do it just to get it out of the way for a few months a year whatever but then I think maybe it’s gone away forever and this is how it is now: missing it but not wanting it.

I wonder if that’s how you win? you don’t win by beating it and “winning”, you win by always wanting it forever, but never give in.

it hurts to not hurt myself but that’s a good thing, supposedly.

I have zero desire to kill myself any more because of people but they’ve even mostly unless I NEED it, stolen my ability to slice or burn my own arms.

I want to do the Bad thing so much right now to sort everything out and I can just go o bed with a bit of blood or a groovy burn blister or whaever,

but instead I have to be all sensible and not stab myself.

I just want and instant pain and then all the rest of the rubbish goes away.

I’ve just realised that the whole point of today was I was going to drink too much and get high and finally hurt myself.

I can even feel my left arm waiting for it and I could totally do it but, the fuck of the twat is that it’s only for when it’s really important and necessary.

And I just wan’t it to be important and necessary so that I can do it again but that’s not the new rules.

I am no longer allowed to set fire to or cut my own arms unless it’s life threatening mental bullshit release stuff.

And that is a cunt of a decision to make but if no one reads this I can do it secretely now and again when I’m only 3/4 of the way there and can’t be arsed climbing the rest of the ladder.

On the beer again. not had lunch. Will maybe maybe not eat tea (mind is already saying no) I’m getting fat. Beer belly fat.

I don’t care and that isn’t good.

think what I want, is just one last person to tell them how awesome/beautiful/wonderful/ even weird, they are.

I don’t need or can’t have the snugles of the world and spooning or being spooned to sleep.

So the best I can do when I’m like this is wish for one last person, that no matter how fucked out of my shit i am, I’m allowed to allowed to tell someone something beautiful about themselves with no repercussions.

I fcking hate myself and I’ll never fucking understnad me so shut the fuck up

Everything was groovy today but I I could sink my head and I do it when I squeeze my skull and I’m so overdue for the pain I feel like I should just do a random small one now to stave off whatever is coming.

Which artery is the carotid again? don’t need that don’t mean that but I need and feel a blood flow building.

The truth is I’m still scared no matter how pissed and high I am.

what do I think of myself right now?

I’ve just been to the window for a cheeky smoke, I did see the clock ish, it’s 3 something.

I was looking at the trees and thinking about this and, I have fuck all to do, today is Monday, I bought booze on purpose and got drunk and high just like all the olden days Mondays.

Is that bad?

I don’t know.

I’m fine with it until I ask or write in like this diary pseudo shrink.

I wish I could do like Kenneth Williams in his diaries when he sometimes analysed himself while writing truthfully about his day.

I don’t know who I am. No amount of talking to myself with ever solve that mystery.

I just do stuff and one day I’ll be dead and I’ll leave so much happy behind me.

I’m in that happy drunk stoner place so still don’t know if I like me or not.

I don’t think I have the ability to see an overview of myself like looking down on a finished jigsaw puzzle.

I can’t let them out. I can’t roll away the stone that covers the danger in the caves in the back.

They’ve had snippets more recently but no, fuck off. you’re not coming out, you didn’t define me, I made me who I am, not you you cunt.

I’m in charge of which of you comes out and which of you gets to fuck with me and none of you anymore but please stay quite under your rock, even your vibrations hurt.

I want to hurt myself so fucking much it’s unreal. Every time I buy the boozes i hope it will be tonight but it still isn’t.

I can’t do it on purpose to let the pain out on purpose when it’s more pre empting the pain rather than it’s actually there like I used to.

I’m only allowed to let it out when I absolutely have to, like danger point and Danger will happen if I don’t open the valve then.

Why can’t I just open it a bit, now and then?

Sometimes a slice of the knife is all it needs but people will not let me or be upset with me.

Maybe it’s my own fault this is building up to a countdown.

When you have one last lovely to get rid of and then, finally you can go to bed, you’ve got rid of it all. Who do you give it to?

I want it, I want it so much, I want the last one, or at least someone to give the last one to or even if I could just give it to myself.

I don’t get any one’s last words any more and that’s fine I can deal with that being a part of being me but, I still wish I could give somebody mine.

Even my most safest of people, it’s not that i can’t give them it’s that I don’t know if they’ll read them.

I feel so bad to think that but how can I not?