Today was twisting difficult, but there are nice strangers so close, closer strangers and comparing scars and plans of escape. Plans of escape, to get out of this life & I spend most of my time daydreaming. There is a grimy, dirty film pulling over everything. I wish I could be submerged & fall out, rise up someone completely new, get rid of me forever. "And I still hold your hand in mine when I'm asleep". Scratch off my personality, scrape skin away from my bones. 'I can only analyse my patterns of thought using my patterns of thought'. Or everyone is hollowed out - ceramic shells, walking and talking and breaking and empty too. Painted face. Walking around empty & fragile, but that is as far as it goes, I can't think any further. WOULD YOU STOP FUCKING TALKING TO ME. It evaporates in my mouth before I can say it, whispers painting the roof of my mouth or the condensed intentions and split up broken words I was supposed to say for you. They crack open like sickly sweet pills and empty themselves straight back into the inside of me.

Feeling: black/blank. dull.
Listening to: I got Henrietta-Maria!
Pretending: that i managed to change something, but it's hollow, i know that. Let's pretend!

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