Well, I have nothing but 200 followers who don’t read my posts to talk to. So.

Pimple inside my nose. Recurring. Infection.

I want to talk until the moon rises. It’s hard to talk without someone talking back. I’m not too good at monologue. Excellent at dialogue. Brb nosebleed.

Stuffed that shit UP with toilet paper (tp). My nose is too narrow so I have to chisel away at the interior of the channel using my nails to scrape the fat and skin off. I can’t breathe properly otherwise. But then I get nosebleeds. And infections. Ah well, what does it matter.

Had my ktea and wine. I decided to reward myself for a hard day of work. Problem is the rewards don’t work anymore. There aren’t any. So I’m doomed to be miserable forever.

I yelled at my mom.

That was a lie.

I at cereal for dinner.

That was a truth.

I love kratom. It doesn’t love me anymore, but I still love it. I’m in love with a plant.  Plants are much better than people, though they’re still greedy shit. Says something about people.

Need to do. Need to do. Can’t read. Couldn’t graduate high school if I had to go again, because I can’t read. It started in college, before the onset of my mental illness, I remember clearly not taking an elective course because of the heavy reading requirements I knew I couldn’t keep up with, even though I wanted to learn the course material. it was about the history of Asian culture. I really wanted to learn that stuff. My reading disability is a real life-killer for me. Those of you who read regularly, or before bed, imagine not being able to? Terrible, right? That’s just the tip of the ice berg in terms of my symptoms. My life really is terrible. But I’m not suicidal. I don’t know why I said that or what it means. Never mind.

Really want someone to talk to. People say they’re available to talk but a) don’t leave their contact info, and b) end up not really being available or not responding. It’s mostly lies. I’m sure they have good intentions, they’re just underestimating the magnitude of the investment. I TALK.



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