dim lights.This is how I get my emotions out. My art is filled with my pain,so who'd I be without it? Maybe just a shell of my old body.
if you find my corpse by the train tracks,please put flowers on it.
Do you think these sticks will be enough to help make my house? I have wood I've cut too,but not much. Laying back on a tree,I feel the mud in between my toes. Thankfully,I'm not fully alone. My friend should be here soon.
what if I die in the woods writing this?? what if this book is just left in time while my body rots away?
what if ???????
"keiko?"
"h-huh??" I mutter out.
"we have to build this house,you know. We have nowhere to live"
if I'm dead though,whyd I need somewhere to live?? wouldn't that just be easier???
"keiko...wake up" she flicks me on the head.
The branches keep getting stuck on the edges of my sweater as I stack them. Layering mud,clay,and twigs. I'm so scared of dirt. I hate being dirty.
No matter how little energy I have left in my brain,it seems like that energy will be filled with anxiety. I currently don't have a house,and I'm worried about dirt. My disorder is ruining me. I hope one day I ruin it.
"Keiko.. is something bothering you?" you're so quiet. With a shake of my head I wisper "no" and get back to work.
die die die die die die die die die die
Hannah... I'm so tired. It feels like my body is rotting away. What did I do to deserve this? I am being injected with drugs like a test subject.
I'm not schizophrenic;i am tired,and you cannot comprehend my disorder anymore.
after hours later i can finally say"Goodnight, Hannah!" Our house isn't even close to done,but it's something;good enough for now.
