and then there was nothing. stalking an ex boyfriend I left over a year ago. hating his new girlfriend and her averageness and ability to make him spout kind words. severed heads entire my mind dancing and smiling at me. i don't know what it all means. this doctor says you need to see this other specialist and the specialist says I need to see the doctor. a wheel of torture possibly of my own design. can't even touch myself anymore without feeling pain from tightening pelvic muscles. something must be done. please, rip out that which makes me woman, what is left of it at least. do I get a half off discount since there is only one ovary to suck out? I should. and then there were methadone induced abnormal sleep patterns and i forget if it is day or night or what day or when I fell asleep and if I slept at all. coloring mandalas and realizing the color patterns are quite psychotic. can't believe i spent an hour coloring that one damn picture. the circles and squares and empty space of these spritual healing devices in native american, tibetan and celtic cultures evoke rapid eye movement momentary dream states of twenty-two seconds. Nag Champa incense burning in the distance of a dim room where i am longer myself.
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I admire your ability to put your true feelings on thoughts out for the world to see. I have similar thoughts and feelings a lot but never want to display. Only the people closest to me really see me.