I moved away from myself.
Eat, Throw up, work, eat, throw up, work, don't eat, go to bed, pray I got everything out.
My life is so miserable, suddenly.
I've been starving, not because I want to. I don't eat because I can't eat.
Everything I want is always in reach. I just need a new body to accomplish it.
I'm afraid I might die.
I'm sick, so sick, so sick.
A new body means freedom. I can have anything I want. Even if Carl never comes back to me, I'll have the satisfaction of knowing that I'm more beautiful and desired then ever.
I've been hooking up with the friends that I have left. Party friends that serve purpose of no personal development, just distraction.
At least they think I'm beautiful.
I don't want to go out, but I do.
I let the blotters dissolve on my tongue. As soon as it hits my blood stream, nothing matters. I could die, for all I care. I'm happy. Nothing is quite like that rush of dope to the system, nothing quite like that shimmery white powder.
I'm starting to believe that these highways don't lead any place but I'm starting to believe I'll ride them to my grave.
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