i cant be around people. i can't bear when they look at me. i look at myself and i want to go. i want to scratch off my skin, put out my body into something useless. i hate my body, my face, my clothes and everything about the way i look and everything about the eway i am. i wish nobody could look at me, i wish i was dead and never born.
i am disgusting, people are embarrassed to look at me, ashamed to walk with me. so am i. my greatest desire is death, to die. to die the death of one, to starve the pain of mine. how ugly it must be to see me live.
maybe i do should kill myself. suddenly when i come to death mindfully, i want no savage, ludicrous fantasy of a gruesome, violent death. all of a sudden, it is a slow and civil death that i think about... something soothing, bottomless. empty of pain and love.
YOU ARE READING
2024: my digital diary
Non-FictionAll names and locations have been changed to preserve privacy.
