BODY OVER MIND

Physical pain is something I definitely prefer to all other types of pain.
Physical pain distracts me long enough. I cherish my times of discomfort because it keeps my mind occupied.
So thank you, aching arms and blistered fingers, searing headaches and churning guts, bruised crevices and open sores, guitar strings and sharp corners, stainless steel and butane, sparking synapses and empty stomachs, and all tumors that have yet to be discovered, speak now or forever hold your peace. Because of you, I have not completely lost my mind. Being in constant pain has kept me in touch with reality.
Whichever naysayer is bold enough to disapprove of hypochondria obviously hasn't given it a shot, because it really works for me. Try it out. As they say, it's better to be sick than sorry.
And by sorry, I don't mean apologetic.

I'm starting to feel like maybe if I was openly crazy, people would get off my back. But since I appreciate societal standards and try to abide by them, I'm still expected to function with some level of normality. It seems like pulling the depressed card gets you out of jail free. I wish I could just tell everyone, hey, no, actually, I'm NOT going to do that because I'm a sociopath drug addict suffering from school age schizophrenia. Or maybe I can give the short version of how I hate everything about every aspect of my life, so fuck you.

Yes, I'm real mature for my age, I pay bills and do the shopping and shit. And by that I mean I lie in bed and play the Sims 2 and hope that my brain will start bleeding.

Loyal readers, I promise that one day, these blogs will start looking up. Until then, my room is a mess, I have two friends, no job, no money, no hobbies, I can't drive, and my curfew is 12 o clock until further notice