That´s what people say at Christmas, right? Except normally they have someone to say it to. They have friends and family,
And they haven´t been crouched naked under a Christmas tree with a needle in their arm like an insane person in a mansion in Van Nuys. They´re not out of their minds, they´re not writing in a diary, And they´re definitely not watching their holiday spirit coagulate in a spoon. I didn´t speak to a single person today. I thought, why should I ruin their fucking Christmas.
I´ve started a new diary and this time I have a few new reasons. One, I have no friends left. Two, so I can read back and remember what I did the day before. And three, so if I die, at least I leave a nice
little suicide note of my life.
It´s just me and you, diary. Welcome to my fucking life.
Nobody would believe the shit that happens in my head, it´s haunted. Now I´ve come down from the drugs it seems like a sick play that I saw in a theater somewhere. Thirty minutes ago, I could´ve killed someone. Or better yet, myself.