Confessions of a Broken Mind

These are Confessions of a broken mind-(man who gives a fuck what you have to say!
You get fucked up cuz you want it, so don’t start with none of that bullshit, man I’m about to take you on a trip! So sit back, kick up, and take a sip. This dirty sprite has got a kick, now you just gotta go fuck a trick, take your pick,and let‘em all slide on your dick, but you gotta play it slick, catchin’ feelings but you cant keep’em, catching hoes on speed son!)
- Every day is the same fight over, and over, and over. I sometimes feel like I’m getting better but that’s soon met with thoughts of how weak, pathetic, and unsure I am. I want to do great things but can’t figure out why I hate myself so muc-
(Again with this depression shit, I know how you can take care of it. I heard of a party down the block and it’s fully stocked! PCP, alcohol, and ex for everyone! Boi you about to feel stunned, like you just won a million dollars, and ill make sure this night is never done, so there’s no time to try and run from me, from you, from we)
- It’s hard to value your life when you think about how small people really are on a larger scale. A scale that seems immeasurable almost. As a species we’ve hit 8billon and counting, so is one less life really that big a deal? If I died tomorrow who would morn my dea-
(I just found out the plugs got some pure molly, so let’s go live it up like we’re in Cali, get so fucked up they’ll start calling us Kaminski. And that ain’t no figure of speech, since you wanna be a little B, go drink some motherfucking bleach and let me hear yo voice crack and screech. I’m bout to treat you like peach from mario, go get gangbanged by all these koopalings)
- I could say my problems originate from the untimely death/murder of my older brother when I was 16 and he 19. To add to that my father died 2 weeks later, so it was a grim time in my life where I took to using substance abuse as a means of escape; a way to completely numb the pain of a broken heart-
(Speaking of gangbangin, fuck that nigga! He got shot cuz he wanted to be a proud nigga, wanted to show off that he could be a sound nigga, felt like he could do it all alone type’a nigga! And fuck the little bitch who pulled the trigger on my Bros back! We can track them niggas down, all 13, and ill look’em in they eyes as I cut their spleen, put’em in a pot to boil and show’em how to be real beaners)
- But that was 3 years ago, so my next question is how long is the grieving process?...I’ll never forget my father’s face when I told him that my brother was killed. He wasn’t our biological father but he was there since I was 5 and my brother 8. And yea they had their problems and couldn’t really get along well but when I looked him in the eyes and told him, I saw piece of him die as well. I think that no matter what happened between them to my father we were both his sons and no amount of DNA could change that.
(Man we got all these kin folk dying on us………….)
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My goal was to illustrate the constant conflict of my inner demons and how even when I'm doing something as simple as talking through my problems there's always another side of me tearing me down.