Journal of a cynic. Dude.

I just had a very odd experience

 

I was in the shower and I started to cry and as I cried, I recited three stanzas from Prufrock. 

And that was all.

For I have known them all already, known them all.

The eyes that fix you in a formulated phrase

 And when I am formulated, sprawling on a pin,

When I am pinned and wriggling on the wall

Then how should I begin

To spit out all the butt-ends of my days and ways

And how should I presume?

 

J. Alfred Prufrock sums up my life, i think -.- only without the tea.

Tear off the heartstrings.

Ugh it hurts.  

Nope. Still crazy, still obsessed. "Do you need anything?" "Yes, you. D:"

 

 

I suppose it was all my fault to begin with. Truly sorry about that.

 

God. This day week month year has been complete and utter shit. My grades have improved, but thats all. All. I'm constantly angry and sad, and am seriously on the verge of a complete breakdown. I want to cry. A lot. And scream.

 

I write emo poetry, thats how bad it is.

 

I have no hope.  

Gotta move on. LIfe is going past me. Can't wallow in self pity.