pudding

and im not making it any better, but i can't make it worse. and it's all over the floor all this shit that i have tossed around carelessly. and given the opportunity to stop fucking up, i will chose to fuck up because i am fucked up. and i'm going to spare you the details of my life story or what my shrink thinks may have contributed to all this or even my personal opinion as to why i am this way. sparing you the details. but needless to say that this is where i have ended up. and i say ended up as though i had not choice in any of the events in my life and that is not what i mean at all. and it's a fucking fun and games to joke about a topic that is near and dear to my heart right now. its fucking hilarious when this thing that you just spit out as a joke is real to me. and maybe its because you don't get it. or maybe it's because i am a bad person at heart and just can't rise above myself well enough to keep from choking on all the bullshit that surrounds me. maybe thats it. and the things i find comfort in are not healthy. and if i could sleep all day every day i would, and if i could just close my eyes and make all the things that are my fault and all the things that weren't my fault just disappear i would. and i look at the shiny object on my desk and get distracted by its promise, or shift my gaze to the candy that brings sleep. demons, all of it. and al the stand-by type things are falling apart. i could clean this place from top to bottom and sleep in the big bed and hug the christopher bear so tight ensuring that he wouldnt stand a chance at falling off the bed. i could do that. but i don't got the energy, and i don't got the drive and i feel worthless. and maybe i should, you know, who says what one person is worth anyway. and i'm sick of having "those" nights. i just want to be right like everyone else, i want to be able to be consoled with a hug or some nice fucking words. but that shit just doesn't do it for me. and i thought the drugs were working, but this screams to me that they are not. and i don't see my shrink til april twenty first. and the sad music doesn't help worth a damn, but what the fuck are you supposed to listen to? maybe tomorrow i will call and make an appointment in the city because a month and a half is too long for this shit. and it's not like i think the drugs are supposed to take the sadness away by any stretch, but fuck me if there isn't something wrong.