so my fever is still around. and i decided to make good use of the medical leave that i was given by the doctor, to come back home instead of staying miserable on the island.


and oh. i'm officially past twentyfours without food and water. but now i have a bigger problem. how to avoid dinner. i was thinking if i should pretend to eat as normal, but make myself puke it all out after that. hmmm. let's see how it goes.


i had another first today. my first smoke, and i think i'm a born natural for it despite the stupid nose not liking the smoke. not to forget the smell that lingers on the hair, clothes and fingers. gee. reminds me of the time i started drinking and i didn't like it either.




now say hello to stick number one. i'm more surprised that i actually managed to light it up. hahaha. did i ever told anyone that i'm a hopeless at using a lighter? i think i have better luck at using matches than lighters.

so i ended up smoking at the staircase and was constantly worried that my neighbours will discover me. what the fuck. and don't worry, no falling down the stairs this time around. oh. i haven't showed everyone my bruises.



that's roughly the ones that i can see and take photos and am aware of. i'm sure there are a few more i missed. and while i was on the way home, i realised my right knee is starting to hurt.


and you know why life sucks? because every single person that i love, decided for me that i decided to roll down fourteen fucking steps of the stairs on purpose. every single person, even the ones in this house.

they think i'm collecting these bruises for fun. wow. fantastic isn't it.

first you fainted, rolled down fourteen fucking steps, spent half a day in hospital, covered with bruises and pain. and hey, everyone decides that you did it on purpose. when did i become some circus performer?

i don't really specialise in rolling down the stairs, if that's what they needed to know.

and if i did wanted to do something to myself, falling off fourteen stories will be my kind of fun instead of fourteen fucking steps. at least i know it's an instant death for me since i don't have much flesh to cushion any sort of fall and my brains will definitely go splat when i reach the ground floor.

but of course, at the end of the day, fourteen steps was on purpose to them.


so can anyone out there tell me that their life is more shitty than mine? make me feel some worthiness for myself.


just when i was trying to hard to not be self-destructive and be what they call 'normal', an accident was all it took to shatter everything. i feel the love. really. all that pushing and doubting one by one. a slow and painful one.


so right now, it's two sticks, that i had to hide at the staircase and smoke. and it is so bloody difficult to get rid of the smell. now i'm hiding in the room hoping it goes away. and cigarette breath is seriously wtf. i need to start brushing my teeth and rinsing my mouth a lot more.


so let's continue the smoking in my room tonight and don't worry. no falling this time at the staircase or anywhere, because i don't want five hands pointing at me and saying that i fell on purpose. you know, i will choose a better time and location to faint next time. if there is a next time.



and if i wanna do anything on purpose, i will make sure it's fourteen fucking stories high.