the SIXTEENTH of MAY, TWO THOUSAND and TWENTY ONE.

is it sadistic to want to watch yourself burn? or would it be considered masochism?
i'd consider it sadism. for i don't revel in the pain, i revel in the image of my own destruction.
the obliteration of everything i fucking despise and romanticise; the conflict of my narcissistic self-loathing,
the adoration of the mutilated girl that stares at me in the mirror, bloody and empty.
as that is all i am; empty. i don't feel the blood coarse through my veins, i don't feel the adrenaline
tickle my fingertips, i don't feel anything human, all i feel is me. i consume my own self,
a battle between wanting to rape myself and wanting to watch my pretty pink brains splatter against the wall.
infatuation, obsession. i feel fucking eternal. i neither exist nor do not exist.

take me back!