greyinside
2004-10-19 || 6:26 p.m.

I hate the wholeness of the blank space inside my head. I hate how its become all there is. I hate how I want to scream and punch and shout and yet I can do nothing at all. Nothing. Because nothing is all there is inside my head and even these words seem fake. They seem like something I am constructing to try and make out that I am something. That somehow I exist as a real, valid person. That somewhere, somehow I could matter. When I am nothing but a shell. Inside my head is just a grey, blank screen. The things I see around me are props placed to pretend there is something more. Sleep is just marking time until I become more nothing. Friends disappear down a rabbit hole faster that you can say alice because I make no effort to do a thing because it is all just play-acting and I'm really shit-arsed crap at it. I can't understand what makes any of this at all and I can't understand why I walk around feeling like I am nothing at all. Because that is how I feel and yet it feels trite and ridiculous to say so.

I want to stick pins in myself until I am nothing but a hole.

Until the pressure of this blank space inside my head goes away for good.