Diary, journal, no. you're niether. you're nothing. You're boredom. Ain't no fuckin shrink tellin me to keep record of my beat ass feelings. No emo bullshit. No. I'm scratching a pencil to paper cause I'm fuckin bored. I got better shit to do. you're a dead tree. you're fucking dead. you understand? Fuck you paper. you rode the wagon. I won't. I wouldn't pay you no mind if you weren't the only one here rght now.

But where is everyone else? Where are the othe patients? I see empty beds. how many days was I out this time? Last time I lost two days. Maybe I should start from the beginning. NO! Fuck you! you ain't no leather couch. You're a stupid tree that was too dumb to survive and I'm writing on you just cause I got nothing better to do. I got so many better things to do. If only I could breathe on my own. Life support is stale.