Never have I wanted to joke around so very very much in my life. I turned 18 last Monday and every hour since midnight May 6 has been hell. How long do I have to wait before it's not ironic to die? Not that I'm going to try to, but just that I am tempted to. This isn't a countdown until, it's a countdown until the end of.
My feet are cinder blocks and I want to go swimming in the ocean. My arms are empty and I want to draw with red ink. My head is heavy and I want to cram gel capsules into it so I never lift it from my pillow do you understand do you fucking get it? I am sad a lot and alone a lot and I'd like to smile and tell a joke, like haha being an adult sucks I quit. But I don't know. I don't I can't I I I just I oh. What is the point of breathing when it's too hard? Because there is so much snot in both my nostrils and because my tongue is swollen from getting caught in the crossfire of my teeth who break up and get back together everytime my jaw fishes for the right words?
Oh right I had something important to say.
Lately I've been learning the value of words. I talk a lot but I've been falling out of practice. It's not my fault, I'm sorry I've been busy creating things and breaking things in my head and dreaming in black and white. Very taxing activities. So what I do with the surplus is: I save them for people I want to talk to. I collect them in my palms and my wallet and my pockets, but sometimes they spill out and shatter on the floor when I am busy looking down at my feet and someone greets me and I fucking hell I say hello back how fucking silly of me. I am collecting my words to spend here or with people who I want to spend on. Spend words. I will feed them my words. I will take my thumb and index finger and put them in my mouth where they will lift gently the word, which will taste like spun sugar, and then my wrist will take this vessel across a vast and terrible space and place it, my word my darling my dear, in your mouth where it will melt and you will drink it and die.
My stomach hurts. I drank down a lot of pills but I don't think I'm going to die tonight. They were the wrong kind of pills for a big big job like that. I think I'm just going to find out a lot of things like what my voice sounds like when I cry when sleeping and if rainbow nerds produce rainbow vomit.
I wish I was on a deserted island. Or a dessert island. I wish I felt like an adult already. I wish I was thinner, so much thinner. I wish I had a big ol' knife to cut off the loose fat of my thighs and arms and belly. I wish the people who I want to read this will read it because Jesus fucking Christ this is my cry for fucking help don't you get that? I am losing my mind I think and I want to know if you can hear me. Can you hear me hello hello