Yellow corner
October 17, 2009
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16
What makes me happy? What makes me happy? What makes me happy? What makes me happy? What makes me happy? What makes me happy? What makes me happy? What makes me happy?
I think I have problems dealing with people.
No excitement.
No ecstasy.
Life is so fucking flat. Especially when you’re sick.
“Everybody sucks.” (I wrote this down when I was in the middle of a class several weeks ago)
I wish I could draw. If I could, I would vent out my anger when drawing. But what kind of anger? What exactly is wrong with me? Why am I bothered so much by bullshits? I used to sound this way: I don’t give a shit.
They’re all annoying tiny insects. In a bowl. Feeding on a dead rat. Which was bleeding to death.
