Friday, 6 July 2012

Guitar God: Joe Satriani

What's happening to me? Is this hormonal?

I was so upset yesterday. I would like to just give up with all this writing malarkey and dance and just said Fuck It All, looks like I'll never get to do the stuff I want to do, but at the same time, I don't think I'll really do it. I'M ASKING FOR HELP. I scare myself sometimes. Does anybody know how disgusting it is to tear your skin up with a craft knife you found in your brother's old school pencil case from years ago? Well let's not even go there then, because I'm getting tired of looking at parrallel scars on my wrists. It's twisted that even in self-harm, I am able to do it neatly. I have never liked mess.

(I hope to God nobody's reading this...) Somebody from the clinic called me yesterday. Finally. Now maybe I can see a f?£$#&*! counsellor.

Today, though, I felt a lot better. (I put the craft knife under my lamp so I wouldn't be tempted.) But I think that was inevitable. I couldn't feel any worse, so I would HAVE to feel better. If I felt any worse today, I wouldn't be alive. My tiny human brain couldn't handle it.

No words now. Just rock.

Joe Satriani - Searching

Mz Dark Star.



  1. See at first I thought you were mad at me, then I finally worked up the balls to read THIS.

    You will call me or so help me God I will turn up at your house.

  2. I'm glad you did; I had no intention of using my phone to connect with the outside world. --S.K.


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