Head in the sand, Apoligies warranted

I could apologize for my absence,
the upcoming post must hint at the fact that I only use this blog when I am a bit troubled, you will be wrong, because the last three months or so have been the toughest months I have ever had to live. more on that later.

lets talk about black pits and life sucking holes.

The new bio for my twitter handle is : sometimes I want to kill myself.

Anyone who knows me, and i am actually sad to say very few of the people who think they know me, actually do so, but the one or two who do, are probably not alarmed at my change of my bio, and my random re appearance on this blog, if they actually read it those fucking twats.

I have been reminded severally that burying my head in the sand and kicking up my legs, spread in manner of those head stands we do in yoga gets suffocating after a time, well yes, it is sand after all innit? But you know, its a good way of keeping your morbid and doomed reality at bay because the sun can't scorch me if my head is in a warm moist bed of salty beach sand and the breeze between my thighs sort of gets me off. oh come on, you know that was coming, that's why you read it, slut.

on and on, I must stop with going off the course, i am trying to explain why my life is doomed.

a friend of mine is in a dark hole, it seems I cannot make normal friends, for fuck sake. like why the fuck do we all have to have daddy issues, abandonment issues and a penchant for substance and self abuse?
But on and on, the only comfort I could give her was, eat pineapples, it will help with the happy juices that make your other happy juices taste better than artichokes and asparagus. bleurgh.

I could apologize for that, but I won't, and here is why;

it does not get better.
to anyone i have ever told that it gets better,

i could apologize for that too, but I actually believed it.

to anyone who told me it does get better. screw your logic and false hope.

no, the voices in your head telling you you are not smart enough, pretty enough, exciting enough will never go away.

you can however bury your head in the sand and throw open your legs and let the beach breeze waft between your legs,

but either a horrendously mutated sea creature will pay homage to your probably moist orifices

or you will suffocate.

either way, you pull your head out, let the sun scorch you, listen to the voices in your head rejoice at a chance to feast at your already diminishing soul, and then you go right back to burying it in the sand.

This cycle is tedious,

Sometimes darlings, I wanna kill myself.

ta-ta