"One of these days I'm going to die by my own hands. I will stare at myself blood red and content. The frustration is a bubbling fester, and I need it to cease. I will do whatever it takes to rid myself of this disease. Impatiently waiting on a change, that I can not bring myself. I am weakening and can not find anywhere that seems fit or willing. I am my own, and I am tired of myself, and when I go to sleep I hope to never awake."
Tuesday, July 28, 2009
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