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I'm back.. home again...

it kinda sucks when you get home... and it doesn't feel like.. well.. home... I'm in front of my monitor again... typing on my extremely old keyboard.. listening to my relatively new speakers.. and clicking away on my mom's mouse...

this is anhedonia... the inability to feel pleasure..

it all feels.. empty... I know it's there.. but.. it doesn't feel like it is really there... I'm glad I'm not having panic attacks anymore.. although having an episode makes me feel so alive... so much so that I want to feel... dead..

morbid things has always been my forte... if ever given the chance.. I would've orchestrated the bloodiest school shooting... or I could've masterminded a murder that no CSI team can solve... that's what I normally think about when I'm not doing anything else.. trimming down the population... or shooting really really important people in society... and in my life..

really really.. yeah

I don't wanna end up in prison.. left to rot until my days are gone.. but I think it's where everything will lead to... or maybe not.. this might turn out to be one of those morbid fantasies...

I don't see the point of suicide anymore... deliberately ending everything and making others feel miserable for a short while is... kinda bland.. compared to.. killing someone else, making others feel miserable for a short while, and basically eliminating your problem.. unless you're a normal person who feels guilty after doing something evil...

maybe I should start doing sports.. to focus all of my frustrations there.. artistic pursuits aren't really helpful.. maybe playing some chess would do.. chess players are normally timid.. I can beat them up anytime without them fighting back..

or I should deal with the problem itself.. or.. I dunno... I need a total brain transplant.. seriously

another heart is cracked