whyamibothering

'i want you to know what really took place with us, even if you never believe it. in fiction if nowhere else, i must have a little meaning, a little coherence, or i will go mad.' Queen of the Damned, Anne Rice. i love that quote. but i use it here to say that, even if no one believes it, or even reads it, i need this for meaning and clarity for myself. i feel, sick. a deep-seated sickness that rots through every part of me. i'm not dying faster than i should be expected to, but it feels like i'm being eaten alive by a great nothing. i'm not fading because i'd have to have been solid for that. maybe i'm an echo of the life i was supposed t

It's not art, but a sick clawing and tearing churning inside. 'Pretty' words aside, I feel like I have to say this somewhere for at least a little piece of.mind. But I do apologise in advance. I feel sick. In the deep seated sense that maybe I've never been well. I wake to nothing, I eat only because I can't take my pain medication otherwise but more often because it takes away the buzzing boredom in my head. It's not boredom that can be cured by tv. It's boredom that is seeping out into everything, telling me that being awake is pointless if I know there is nothing to wake for. I think about drawing or painting but then I remember how stale

i'm meeting rory williams... and river song and luna lovegood. oh and potentially david tennant. so... yeah. these thoughts will get me through my extremely shit job.