Maybe next life cycle I’ll get it right. That’s all we can really hope for, right? I’ve spent so much time miserable that maybe these few happy moments the past seven months are all I deserve. I have a family that tears itself apart. We barely talk, if we do it’s to scream. I fear my father. My mother is a reminder of the failure I’ve become. And my sister thinks she has escaped it all, and yet she has a fiance I think is an ass and will ruin her life the same way my father ruined my mom’s. I don’t have friends, because I trust no one. Partially the paranoia and the voices. Partially former experience. A woman once told me I had the devil inside of me. But i think everyone does, and we all suck at hiding it. Sometimes real voices get mixed up with the hallucinations or whatever it is. And now I can’t tell if the people I kind of talk to at work hate me all the same. But they have no reason to care about me. I’m the fuck up developer who shouldn’t have gotten this job. Who is awkward and can’t speak. Can’t look you in the eye. Who has a dog that barks at everyone, because I think she knows I’m so afraid someone will throw a knife at me. Is it irrational? Maybe. But that doesn’t make it go away. Or make it feel less real in the moment. My reality is so warped. And i can’t even seem to control the smallest things in my life. Honestly, I think I met a witch sometime and really pissed her off. I’m like a voodoo doll. Well the result of a voodoo doll. Maybe it will work out this time and I won’t wake up tomorrow. It never does, but maybe someone somewhere knows I’ve hit my limit. I’ve sucked up the little happiness I could, and I’ve drowned in the psychotic misery. I’ll be written off as the sad nutcase. But haven’t I always been anyway? I’ve left a note on where to take my pets. I guess I’ll see how the morning pans out.