It smells like bleach in here. I don't see anyone else. The tables are dirty though.
This existence pains me, my motivation totally gone but the anxiety has taken over and I don't know why it is so grey and it makes me feel like I am underwater.
I need new shoes and my existence depresses me.
I want to be perfect without needing to be but I can't grasp it and I really just want to sleep until June.
I am not my name.
You are not your name.
I am a number to you but I am not a number and I am not anything that you can grasp. This world is fucked and I hate that I am a part of it.
I do wish that all centers of power would be destroyed, anything that holds the numbers they define people and regions by, all statistics and who owns what and what owns whom.
I want to puke.
I am feeling destructive and antisocial and uninspired and anti sexual I don't even want to be touched by anyone. I want to be invisible.
Six minutes_ sixteen minutes_ sixty-six minutes_ seventy-six minutes_ three-hundred and eleven minutes_ twelve hours_ twenty-four hours_
My dishes are dirty.
Take notes Read book Regurgitate We tell you you're Smart.
FUCK OFF.

1/25/10 9 am