I think I may have killed a girl in a past life. I tied her up and kept her in a garbage bag for 15 years. I don't know if the girl was my sister or a family friend. I am out of medicine. I am so sick of running out of medicine. This is why I get sick. I need a refillable script. I am not a baby. This is such bullshit.
I want to check out some Louis Malle flicks. My father should've played the drunk in pretty baby. I see the people across the street planted a tree. I guess that's a start considering they chopped two down when they moved in.
I will keep a journal from here on out. Daily pages, morning pages, whatever you wanna call it. Even if it's not some intellectual mumbo jumbo. I cannot be the judge of it. It is not for award winning or analytical analysis. Asinine assonance. These are not just journals. These are maps. These are real. Fuck all that pollyanna bullshit and positive thinking. I am not monk-like. There is no reason to deny and control. I am this person. I can change if I want. Fucking bills! Where is my disability check?

W I D E O P E N S P A C E
W A S T E D
B L O O D T O D R A W F R O M
N A I L E D P A L M S
A C R O S S T H E P A G E
I S E E N O T H I N G
J U S T W H A T
I A L R E A D Y A M

I like what I've become. Maybe it's the drugs. Tea is good. And walking. But just doing nothing is best. It requires no effort on my part. Of course I have to deal with the negative thoughts. The fucking constant critic that cuts into my nothing time just to make me aware of the fact that I'm doing nothing. No shit, sherlock. I screamed at him yesterday. My inner critic must be a dude. He's so fucking anal. Get a fucking life and go find someone else that's doing absolutely nothing.