this life does nothing else to me but brings me down. i pray i could go but no. the fucking gold plated plastic spoon has been stucked in my throat but it won't let me choke. fuck this shit. just
fuck and then fuck a bit again. there are no reasons.

Why

do i even try?
nobody cares if i care.

nnnnnnnn

I don't understand.

There is no real reason for me.

I have skills but still
I can't do shit.

Fuck this shit.

I'm going to be alone.

Always.

Fuck this shit,

it makes me want to die.

The Bomb

Tssssssssssssssssshhhhhhhhhhhh

KABOOOM.

ARGH.

Noooooooooo..

CRASHboombooom.

Everybody else.

Untitled

I did not joke as I asked the nurse not to remember

my pills but she was laughing. I was devastated and I

couldn't understand why I was being laughed at.

I repeated the question and she threw a tray at me.

It was humiliating and I asked her if she knew who I was.

She answered with a code: "You're number 1784 hashtag 06."

Next night I cried myself to sleep.

I'm a code, a hashtag and numbers.