Personality Crash

things are not going well. i can't sleep. i wake each night. i drop to my bed exhausted, my room is a mess, my sheets stink, my stomach burns and i can't sleep. i am drowning in fatigue and i hurt. the more i hurt the more i can't sleep. i have a fuzz in my head, a buzzing of noise that fills my skull with static. i say motherfucker a lot more than i used to. i burn inside. i have irrational fixations, i am obsessing, regressing, i place hope in a woman. i'm in more trouble than i thought. at tipping point, dipping point, poised to go either way, blossom or bottom. i never used to say motherfucker. and there is that noise again, i am a tv on static, fsshshh it goes and i can't turn it off, please someone find the fucking remote.

There are two problems with mobile phones:

1) In any place, at any time, anyone can call you

2) But no one does

it takes me forty minutes to get dressed. i deliberate each choice, i break into cold sweats, i deplete the frail energy i am conserved with dressing and redressing. i'm gripped by the fear of the wrong top. fsshshh. i believe my choice of clothing, the styling of my hair, these will make the difference, these will win her over, win her back. shit. csshshh. what am i doing? what the motherfucker am i doing? i'm sorry i'm not myself. whoever i am has popped out for a while, i will let you know when he returns. in the meantime- fzsschcsshhhh...