Schizo

“How . . . how do you deal with knowing that so much of what you thought was real . . . totally wasn’t?

Because in my life, there are no dreams left.

my heart beats painfully fast just thinking about her.

three whole pages before I realize I haven’t remembered or comprehended a thing.

I wish that everyone would stop worrying about me. I’m not some total invalid.

It really does seem like the more you try not to think about something, the more that ends up being the only fucking thing you can think about.

What will allow us to start living again?

How could I ever let myself have any kind of happiness?

No one else in my family is crazy like I am. I’m the defective one—the mistake.

Everybody on earth is connected to some electronic wireless device that does nothing but create advertising and waste time