I feel so old. I talk to people of my own age and can't quite get over how little they've done, how little they've read, how little insight they have into...anything. I'm not gonna sit here and say I'm worth anything more, but I can't have conversations with people who only care about skins and pills, because they've only just discovered what it's like to lose their minds. It's funny, the same age, and they're striving for madness. I'm clucking for health, for sanity. Maybe that's why I can't connect.

I wish I could rid myself of all this guilt. I wish I could just stop. I wish I had the peace of mind to cut everything out and let it ******* pour. Meds aren't making me better, they're only giving me the strength to stay above water, the strength to say no to soho and rhythm factory, say no to the ***** and drugs and ******* hell what I'd give for it all now, what I'd give to lose control again.  I'm not mad, nor sane. I'm sitting on the wall, catching my ankles on climbing roses and swearing like a ******* sailor. What I'd give to sink bits of everything into me. One of my favourite memories is when I shaved my head and emptied the razor out and let it bite right down into the back of my ******* head. The feeling was overwhelming - what if hits something valuable?
But wasn't that always the point?