Pieces of My Own Asylum...
fallingart.com
July 26th...
Snorted crank. A few times throughout the night, actually. That shit tastes nasty at the back of your throat. She told me it was really addictive. I said if she becomes an addict, I’ll be one too. It’s weird. A part of me knows how dangerous this is. How stupid and harmful. A part of me is scared and worried. But I don’t feel any of it. I don’t feel anything at all.
Maybe that’s the crank talking. Or maybe not. But I think I’m done writing for awhile, though I’ll be awake for a long ass time!
-pg. 27
Sometimes I couldn’t feel my body. The distance between me rolled in and out, like waves. Black water, cold as ice. And I was spinning in circles, fighting the current. Drowning. Why couldn’t I just close my eyes and disappear? So much around me, I’d fall over. Like paper dolls. It was too much to think. Couldn’t go to class. Couldn’t understand it. Couldn’t remember how.
My parents called. Sienna called. Kat called. Over and over and over they called. It was just the fucking telephone. I shouldn’t be running. Shouldn’t be running from nothing. But my feet wouldn’t stop. So I ran and I ran and I ran to the white snow that wasn’t cold, making angels dance inside my nose.
-pg.175
12:50 PM. I sat there on the concrete in front of the Health Center, my knees to my chest, my eyes staring at the pavement. I hated the Health Center. Being here meant something was wrong. Okay, so it could be the flu or a sprained ankle but that’s not what I thought of when I saw that place. It was for those who couldn’t handle shit on their own, who were afraid of falling and didn’t have the means to hold on anymore. Maybe I should leave. Hop the fence and tear into the forest. Live with the fucking deer. Live something else besides this fear.
-pg. 213
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