damik's Diaryland Diary

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Prostitution is sound good right about now

I sit here eating raw oatmeal wondering if I'll ever actully make it. I was going to schedual a Dr's appointment, but I can't afford to pay for it, I'm out of so much stuff, but I can't get replace it because I don't have the money. I couldn't get the job at the other pre-school I had hopped for. It all seems to much for me. I brows the want ads, but there is nothing out there for me. I can't afford my life. And then I remember how relitivly inexpensive it would be to kill myself. In fact I have enough money in my wallet right now.

Ahh, for it to always be an option.

I stare outside to this wonderful day I've wasted, I didn't enjoy the sun, I didn't do anything but float around this stupid box of mine and nothing, I did fucken nothing. I have no desire to do anything. I have no desire at all. I feel so lost.

My screem door keeps swingig open in the breeze, the only thing I can do to stop it is to lock it, and I'm too lazy to get up and do even that.

Rolled oats are strange. What do they look like before they are rolled? And why are they rolled at all? They don't really taste like anything, just something to fill my stomach, I could probably acheive the same result by eating computer papaer.

So this is my life... wow never rang more true. Had I known that this was where I was heading when I tried to kill myself the first time, I would have swallowed more pills.

5:43 p.m. - 03-28-03
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