I might as well talk about them, right? This one is fascinating.

I was shopping with my brother and we climbed atop an aisle shelf. On top there was bread made with wheat that came from North Korea. I found it interesting but then I also saw that it cost 4.80$ so I wasn't sure. I think I did take one bread though because I wanted to try it. However, on our way down the shelf, we found a bomb. I have no clue what happened to it, but I think that's why my brother didn't want me to get the bread...either that or the appalling price of it.

Then, I dreamed about Family Guy for some odd reason (I haven't watched it in years). Peter kept getting killed by some bad luck, even his ghost got killed. Since that was happening, Lois ended up with Quagmire, especially since he apparently has a bank account in the 10 digits. I was there though, trying to guide Peter towards revenge, or life, or both. I told him what to do to turn back into a ghost, then alive again. It didn't work due to his stupidity though.

I woke up with a mild headache.

My sleep broke. I have these dreams. They need to be more interesting

Therapy is hell, I'm lonely and I can't be motivated to do anything. This sucks.

Today's goal is to try and relax and not die FROM A FUC*ING HEART ATTACK.

That's a reasonable goal.

I lost my pills.

I'm alone. My thoughts are like molasses, they stick around and they almost never change. I had an appointment this morning. My brother knows its a regular thing but I didn't tell him last night and as a result, I missed it. So...unless I "ask" him, he doesn't care. He was never the caring type anyway, like most people it seems.

So I only exist. I don't know why I bother. Well, actually I know, I'm just scared of the alternatives, both of dying (or rather, the process in which I will remove my life) and getting better. So I'm just alive. It sucks. I'm sat here on my rigid, wooden chair that's slowly taking the shape of my arse due to how much time I spend on it everyday, and I just notice how everything seems pointless or cruel, or both.

So I am stuck. I think about suicide a lot, if not almost all the time, but I got no means to get there, nor do I have the conviction. Is it because I want to live? I doubt it, because it certainly doesn't feel like I want to.