You only live thrice

I forgot how hard it is to cut through scar tissue. Layers and layers of scars. My favourite cutting place is getting hard like leather. Really should stop jamming the same place on my arm before I get a chainsaw or something. Could end badly, I mean. Realising I will not be able to get a tattoo there someday. Too bad, I really wanted the "end of the word" -down counting from Donnie Darko tattoed on my forearm. You know "28:6:12:42". Not gonna happen with this skin of mine. Oh well, maybe I can have it somewhere else.

I realise that I base my whole life on my past life. That nothing here matters to me, that all I do is waiting for my death so that I can return home. I'm throwing my life away for an unobtainable dream. Even when I have those "epiphanies" and know there are good things in life, the thought in my heart is merely this: make my life as good as possible until I can return home. It's all about Dala, it's always been about Dala! Am I obsessed or what? What if Dala doesn't exist, ever think about that?! JUST A FUCKED UP DREAM FROM A FUCKED UP MIND!

Sometimes I wish that I couldn't remember my past lives at all. Starting over, blank sheet. Cause maybe then my life here wouldn't seem so damn meaningless. I've been trying to find meaning in my life, but all I see is the bars of a prison. Goddamnit! I really need to see a fucking psychologist! Where are they? I have two and none is available?! What's going, really? Everyone just wants to get rid of me all the time. It's understandable, but do I not have any rights as a human being in this society? I'm used to that crap, but I'm fucking dissolving here. I have at least three major things I need to get off my chest, that's been eating at me all summer. Eating and eating until it's just bones left.

No I'm not okay, thanks for asking. Sorry, I just don't know what the fuck is up with me today. Being torn apart in various directions at once tends to make you a little... confused. And I think I'm the one tearing me apart, just rifling through the mess to find something tangible, anything at all. But it's just scraps of flesh and everything is always the same. I cannot change myself, I can't understand... anything.