Oh Dear.

It's just one of those nights. Everyone is swarming in my head because I haven't had enough alcohol to become wrapped in a comatose sleep, and they're being bad little girls and boys. Putting their fingers and itchy teeth into my doubts and worries. Concentrate hard enough on writing here and keep focused. This is the way. No one's going anywhere. Oh god now I don't know if that's good or bad. Oh dear. Another anxiety attack. Even the bear gave me one today, I mean... urgh. Talk about getting worse. I'll probably see him and throw up and have a spontaneous nosebleed. Anxiety girl, she stays in her room, in the dark, hyper...venti...laaaaating.

You know how I know I'm tired? My brain just referred to ellipses as prolapses. *snark* Oh you, silly brain. That's not how grammar works. Spend less time trolling forums :)

Hurrrmkay. Let's see. What can I think about that isn't:

a) The next alcoholic beverage dispensing human

2) The fact that I need a haircut and earrings... and a wash.

four) The stomach fat resting on my thighs.

potato) The acne which has decided to sprawl across my cleavage and up my chest to attack my neck. Of all the fucking places acne, why be such a dick?

You know what, I don't feel any better. That didn't help. Please don't let them take me to the detox clinic O_O

I want to stay here and be a fat depressed alcoholic.

All alone in a corner.

And never get fucked eight times a day by the bear until it's almost like surfing a constant wave of ... Where was I? Right. Eternal misery ^_~

I'm sure I'll be fine once they stuff me full of pills :)

I love pills.

www.quest.i-poon.com

Do these! I'm on level thirty-fucking-seven.

Queasy

Dear anxiety attack, please go away. I don't like you.

I was minding my own business pouring over countless food blogs when you decided to strike. Suddenly I was thinking about having to go to a funeral and see all my family, and then I started thinking about trying to navigate home alone on a train and whether or not I would have to change trains and maybe I would miss the connection or get lost or end up on the wrong platform and what happens if I run out of money and have to walk home from Victoria and oh god I don't know how to do that. And then I have to go to the doctors, waiting for ages and maybe I'll have to go and pick up a prescription and I only have an hour before going to the alcoholics meeting and it's going to be full of people I don't know and they're probably all old and they might make me talk and introduce myself and everyone will be looking at me, judging me and wondering what the fuck I'm doing there when I'm not even twenty. And I still haven't gone for the fucking heart scan because the hospital is big and I'll get lost and I don't want to go alone.

Everyone in my family keeps asking if I'm ok since my uncle died. You know what? I'm fine. Maybe the funeral will make me not fine. I don't really want to find out.

Brendon can go fuck himself

I don't know why.

The stars are lonely rangers in the night sky

That call to me beneath a thousand lullabies,

Drifting through the precincts of

My still-born eyes.

They alone know me.

Slipping into my half-beat frequency

To sing their misconstrued soliloquies -

A whisper of a shadow on

A moon lit breeze.

In the chasmic shrine of the blood breached night

Sleeps the star most divine with the brightest light,

Yes, the brightest light but the quickest soul,

Far too soon the night shall swallow her whole,

And I so besotted shall become so broken

Before ever a word her lips have spoken.