There's a multitude of ways I could describe the pain in my heart that I seemingly cause. I could rationally deduce that it's my mind producing these emotions, but I don't feel the conflict in my mind. I feel the conflict in my heart. I feel physically depleted over a pain that shouldn't be so crippling.
Abused drugs so I wouldn't have to suffer the torment. Swallowed sleeping pills in an attempt to remain asleep, unsuccessfully awaking groggily repeatedly, eyes darting towards the nightstand with a messy 1/8th bag of marijuana, hoping I remembered that I bought a cigarillo. That's what I'm becoming (or have I become?), a self loathing drug abuser with a vicious mentality of unbridled hatred towards everyone and everything for pain I caused myself.
An unjust sense of entitlement plagues my stupid perception of my life, and the humans that encompass it. Believing I'm cognitively inclined, yet suffering with the simplest of problems. The pains that cripple me would be laughter to normals, my stupid fucking problems would make others frown upon me, scoffing them as irrelevant.