If I were to jump off a building I'd do it backwards with the heals of my feet over the edge. I wouldn't actually jump, either. I'd lean back and ease my body into the air. I'd die looking up at the moon and the stars. I'd never see the ground coming.

I'm not well today. Lately the days have merged into one long sad song of routine and habit. All things lead me to a place in my heart I wish I never saw. Sometimes it actually feels painful. Days like these remind me of how desperate I am to leave this place but at the same time, with my confidence in life shot to hell, I find myself lacking the hope and the drive to make change. It has to get better than this, but can it? Can it really? Outside the sun is shining but I can't shake this feeling that none of it makes a difference. Tomorrow I'll wake up in the same place to the same life and all I can do in the meantime is count down the hours before it's decent for me to try to fall asleep again.

I crave dreams, like water. I'd drown myself if I could just to stay there a little longer.

Why is it that every time I find myself reaching out the only things that answer back are machines. Alarm clocks, computers, cars, light bulbs, microwaves and curling irons. I want to feel something other than this. A pinch. A slap. A long hard fuck. Anything to alter this pain inside me. Anything would be better than this.

I am an extraordinary machine.