That’s what people say at christmas right? Except for normally they have somebody to say it to. They have friends and family. And they haven’t been crouched naked under a christmas tree with a needle in their arm like an insane person in a mansion in Van Nuys. They’re not out of their minds, they’re not writing a diary and they’re definitely not watching their holiday spirit coagulate in a spoon. I didn’t speak to a single person today. I thought why should I ruin their fucking Christmas.
I’ve started a new Diary and this time I have a few new reasons. One, I have no friends left. Two, So I can read back and remember what I did the day before. Three, So if I die at least I leave a nice little suicide note of my life. It’s just me and you diary, Welcome to my fucking life.
Nobody would believe the shit that happens inside my head, It’s haunted. Now I’ve come down from the drugs it seems like a sick play that I saw in a theater somewhere. 30 minutes ago I could’ve killed somebody, or better yet myself.