"Come on , Dick, they're going to split us up eventually. You didn't think they were going to send us to the prison together, did you?"

"Sure I did."

"No, I doubt it."

"I never thought about that... Isn't that funny? I never thought they might break us up. Guess that makes me a dope.

If they hang us---would they do that together? At the same time?" 

"Probably. They have two gallows here, side by side."

"Then I hope they hang us."

"Sick and twisted and very, very sad."

"I want Billowy too. And the espadrilles. And the sunglasses. And you,"
On the train I told him about the day we thought he'd drowned and how I was determined to ask my father to round up as many fishermen as he could to go look for him, and when they found him, to light a pyre on our shore, while I grabbed Mafalda's knife from the kitchen and ripped out his heart, because that's all I'd ever have to show for my life. A heart and a shirt. His heart wrapped in a damp shirt

billowy

it's from one of my favorite books. the quote. i remember. yet..... i won't be able to go through the book and find it either. ol' billowy....... leave me billowy. and you..........wow i'm so much pain today

Finish your food. finish it. you have no money. don't waste it. you've lost twelve pounds in two weeks. who cares if it fucking hurts. you're in pain anyway. twelve pounds. twelve pounds, which puts you now twenty-seven to thirty-two off goal weight, if you decide to survive and thrive.


eat.

I failed today, at everything I tried. Did I even try?

I really feel I need to be inpatient for a long duration of time. Yet I know it won't change my feelings. (How do you /know/?) Because I tried it. It also won't help those around me, that care, which is the only thing I care about, even if my mind has a barrier surrounding that. So what's the point exactly of me going into a full time care facility then. I cause the people I love pain in a different way. I don't get help I need (can't get) and they don't get to connect with me, as they have voiced they want to do so much. 

The rest of my day will be spent unwillingly organizing the paper piles in my room to find all my pay stubs from my last job to get my unemployment paperwork fixed tomorrow. 

And then going through my old blogs to find a quote I know is in one of my writings but not sure which. This involves going through about five hundred posts/drafts throughout fifteen different blogs I've had.

Selfish, and chaotic, and so very, very tired.

*sleeps uncomfortably in jeans and rest of outfit from today to avoid dysphoria and triggering the dermatillomania*

I need nothing, to travel the sea

black water, take over

"The good moments will be rare, but they will be worth the bad, and you'll get there" ....something I hear in different variations over and over again from different people as they try to convince me to survive this world.

There's something (eating at me) wrong with me. I am not okay with being alone. Maybe it's the pain I am in and it scares me to have time alone with my own thoughts and space that I am able to hurt myself in. Or maybe it's as simple as I like connecting with people. But it's something I've never realized before. That I don't like being alone. When connections are broken, when I am by myself, there's no escape and I revert back to the child I am. Maybe I get too attached. Maybe I'm too needy. Maybe I talk too much. Maybe my anxiety and depression will push anyone in my life away, always. (Maybe) I am not good enough.

swallowed by a vicious vengeful sea, darker days are raining over me

I have no job. I have no motivation to get a job. I was starving myself. I was tearing and slicing my skin off. I was setting myself on fire. I am still doing some of these things, I want to destroy myself, and I already have emotionally, but my body remains as an illusion so that the people that love me will not be hurt by my absence. But it's why I still disappoint them. I am already gone and they will not accept it. They keep throwing life vests to someone who has already sunk to the bottom of the ocean.

in the deepest depths I lost myself, I see myself through someone else

Inevitably, I will be gone. Am I torturing them by prolonging it? By giving them false hope? Do I rid myself of my pain and the mistake of a body I was given now, or do I wait it out. Do /I/ hope someone drags me from the bottom of the ocean, something I cannot ask anyone to risk their own life for. I see them, diving down into the depths, but they never quite reach me.
Do I stay, or do I go?

but I am ready, to suffer the sea

I need nothing, I need nothing