Strawberry gashes and basic needs

I know my anxiolytics are working when I get so numb and distracted I forget my cigarette and can't hold up my arm. I really gotta eat. I hate eating, I don't want to. Wish there was another way. Another way to shut up my growling stomach, another way to regain my energy and make it last. Have you ever thought about how stupid eating is? You have to shove in a lot of shit into your mouth and then the body is only satisfied for a few hours before you have to do it allover again. And most of it you only shit out anyway.

Maybe I am just crazy, but I think the whole process is so... stupid. Like how did evolution think there? Appetite. I think maybe that is why I can't get around this issue. I have no appetite and haven't had that for a really long time, and therefore I start thinking about it in weird terms.

I just wish someone in my circle of friends could understand this. How I think of food and eating. How I only do it to survive, because dying from starvation is just not such a tempting thought. How I only two or three times a year can enjoy food and all the other times it's just a necessary evil. And of all this I seem to dislike vegetables the most. Hard to eat healthy then. And I'm lazy. My thought around cooking food is this: why spend time and effort on something I'm just gonna shove into my mouth to get it over with?

Ugh... I just hate this so much. It's this thing I just can't understand why people like so much. Maybe I'm just programmed wrong or something. As if anything was programmed right. I'm so tired of never working as intended, complexing my life and life itself just keep fucking me over. Cause nothing is ever simple, especially these basic needs, I just can't do it. I can't eat right, I can't sleep right. Well at least I can breathe on my own, I have that to be thankful over. But not for long if I keep on smoking like a chimney.

And I believe this one really big reason why I can't start living a better life. I don't need the crew or my mother a phone call away, I need fucking room service. Someone who literally drags me up from bed every morning, force feeds me my sleeping pills so that I will fall asleep at night and cooks me three meals a day.

I've given up. That is why I stopped trying to sleep better, stopped trying to eat better. At least I'm awake at all, at least I get some sleep at all, and at least I eat something at all. And that's the best I can do for now.

What do anxiolytics do really? They calmed me down, but I was calm already to begin with. Had enough anxiety to cut my whole arm up and think of how miserable I am with this lovesickness situation and that I keep fucking up my life with sleep and food. But I was calm. I took the pills, felt the effect and then I wrote this. After the effect kicked in. Not long either, just a minute or so. I just don't know what to do. Distraction! Distraction, of course! Let's watch a movie or something.