Addict: Setting the World on Fire
Entry 11
Dear Someone,
It’s like being punched in the gut. Like flying off that ledge in the mini-van and crashing. I haven’t wanted to eat, but I do anyway.
Remember when I told you that my brother did something to me, and that it was only a minor thing but it was still pretty big for me? I told Harry, my therapist. It was one of the ‘Big Three’. He had to call a hotline and report what I had told him. People might come to my house.
I shouldn’t have told him, but Darkie was there with me in that office and whenever Harry asked me how I was doing and I replied ‘Good’ it was like cold knives cutting down my spine, and the words ‘Liar, liar’… Shut up, Jessica.
Just. Shut. Up. Unimpressed birds sing and die. Shut up. You’re just broken down on memory lane. Pick yourself up and more on. No time to think. Welcome to this institution, one-way to resolution. Each day a little more medication, rolls down my throat.
Shut up Fuckface
You can’t handle this. Weakness. Lo- Weakness. Remember? You played that game, bitch. You tried the normal shit everyone tries. It’s all weakness. A sick fawn in a den of wolves. The world backstabs. Get us to it. Skinny sells, love loses, trust is twisted. Get use to it, shithead. Help is a lost hope. See what happens when you talk? You had it under control. Under control. Control. Cntrol. Sain. Shut up. Unimpressed birds sing and die. Die. Die. Die. Stop.
Someone, no amount of pills is gonna fix me. Heh. I guess she was right. Damaged goods.
Fucker. Can’t look in the mirror because you’re too weak to face yourself. can’t act out because you’re too weak to face the consequences.
Just wait, whore. One vertebrae at a time. Just wait.
Shut. Up. Fuckface.
Notice how you don’t argue with me? You know it’s true. No amount of pills or scars or songs or demons can protect you from what you are, shitfaced freak. Damaged goods. You can’t be fixed.
So just SING and DIE.
It’s like being punched in the gut. Like flying off that ledge in the mini-van and crashing. I haven’t wanted to eat, but I do anyway.
Remember when I told you that my brother did something to me, and that it was only a minor thing but it was still pretty big for me? I told Harry, my therapist. It was one of the ‘Big Three’. He had to call a hotline and report what I had told him. People might come to my house.
I shouldn’t have told him, but Darkie was there with me in that office and whenever Harry asked me how I was doing and I replied ‘Good’ it was like cold knives cutting down my spine, and the words ‘Liar, liar’… Shut up, Jessica.
Just. Shut. Up. Unimpressed birds sing and die. Shut up. You’re just broken down on memory lane. Pick yourself up and more on. No time to think. Welcome to this institution, one-way to resolution. Each day a little more medication, rolls down my throat.
Shut up Fuckface
You can’t handle this. Weakness. Lo- Weakness. Remember? You played that game, bitch. You tried the normal shit everyone tries. It’s all weakness. A sick fawn in a den of wolves. The world backstabs. Get us to it. Skinny sells, love loses, trust is twisted. Get use to it, shithead. Help is a lost hope. See what happens when you talk? You had it under control. Under control. Control. Cntrol. Sain. Shut up. Unimpressed birds sing and die. Die. Die. Die. Stop.
Someone, no amount of pills is gonna fix me. Heh. I guess she was right. Damaged goods.
Fucker. Can’t look in the mirror because you’re too weak to face yourself. can’t act out because you’re too weak to face the consequences.
Just wait, whore. One vertebrae at a time. Just wait.
Shut. Up. Fuckface.
Notice how you don’t argue with me? You know it’s true. No amount of pills or scars or songs or demons can protect you from what you are, shitfaced freak. Damaged goods. You can’t be fixed.
So just SING and DIE.