Musings on Life from a Dead Girl

Late Night Thoughts

Why is it so hard for me?
Why are the things that seem to come so easily to others so unattainable to me?
Why do I have to live in this body?
Why do I have to live with this mind?
Why can I get it together?
Why does 22 feel like a noose tightening around my neck?
Why am I crazy?
Why does no one love me?
Why does nobody want me?
Why doesn't anyone care?
My book is never going to be finished.
No one reads the shit I write.
I wish I could sing.
I wish I were pretty enough that people would listen to the things I say.
I want to drown in all of my dreams.
They'll kill me anyway.
Why is it so damn hot in here?
Why do I hate myself?
I should have eaten supper.
No.
I won't lose any weight that way.
Just one line— under my shirt.
Nobody will notice.
But what to do about the blood?
No!
Think of anything else.
I really am hungry, could I sneak into the kitchen without waking anyone up?
Man, I really need to find a new therapist.
What if she thinks I'm crazy?
What if she locks me up?
No.
Never mind.
No more therapy.
Therapy costs money.
Why did you buy those books?
Dad will kill you if he finds out how much you spent.
I really need to pay my credit cards off.
Again.
I'm a fucking idiot for doing this to myself again.
The car payment has to be made.
And the hospital too.
Fuck.
I'm drowning again.
Think of something else.