gh0stly thoughts

The control he has over the kid, me, everyone... it's a vice grip of death. The kid is 19. He has a job finally but it is only 6-8 hours a week. The controller sees that the kid should have a job for at least 2 years to show consistency to get a reference for any future jobs elsewhere. So, when kid is 21 he will be allowed to move to a job offering more hours, more pay because the controller deems it so. And the kid just obeys. He wants nothing for his own life. He just does what The Controller says to do. I'm different from the kid. I don't obey. I don't do what The Controller says. I just placate him. I bide my time until I can get the fuck out of this hell hole. I've made plans. I tried to reach out to people to see what sort of ideas I can bounce off others, but instead they ghost me. The Controller has infected me with this plague. I cannot seem to hold onto a single friendship because he has his grip tightened so hard on me that anything I say about him is se...

My hair looks so pitiful. It looks how I feel inside. There's a bald spot growing and I can see my scalp from every angle now. I have been throwing it up in a messy bun for years. I can't remember the last time I was able to wear it down without showing skin through the sparse strands I have left. I don't know if this will be permanent. I hope not. Because if it is, it probably means my insides will be too. This life is killing me. Not in the same way it kills most, slowly but surely we all die. But killing killing me, like every day there is possibility that I might just die. I remember thinking the other day, I woke up and the sun was shining in around the edges of the curtains in the bedroom - I'm not dead, I didn't die. I felt a sort of listless despair that I was still here. I've been checking in every day or so to see where I am at with that. And I'm okay with dying right now. I just don't want to be aware of the fact. But stuff is too heavy for me...