22:44

Greetings and salutations from the land of grotesque.

The time is quarter to eleven, hence the title. I just watched an australian film called 2:37. It was very, very, VERY good.

Blunt, crude and fucked up, but good.
Basically, it's about this group of students and they all have some sort of shit going on in their life, and my favourite character is this gay outcast called Sean, but anyway, at the beginning you figure out that someone's killed themselves so all the way through it, you're seeing all the shit in these people's lives and you're like ok so who did it? (and if you're anything like me, praying it wasn't Sean,). ANd then you find out who it was. I'm not telling you. Go watch it.

It's not suitable for uh...sensitive viewers. As someone who has a problem with anything to do with sex, I found two scenes particularly hard, but there are other things, like you know one of the girls is bulimic, and obviously the whole suicide thing.

But if you're okay watching stuff like that, watch it. It was good, so good that as soon as I finished I went on amazon and added it to my wish list for when I get paid.

It is a little button-pushing if you get what I mean, so you should only watch it if you're way too happy with life.

I figured something out. I'm not going to say exactly what I figured out, because there are some things you just keep to yourself...but I'm happy that I've figured it out.
It'll make everything so much easier. For everyone.

Even though no one here knows who I am, at least not that I know, even though I could write everything that enters my head...you can't reveal your darkest secrets, not on the internet...

There's some things you wouldn't even say to your closest friend, let alone plaster all over the www.

Things you keep to yourself. That you keep hidden in the darkest, deepest pits inside your soul. And it grows, it spawns into this demon that eats away at you from the inside.

It's poison weakens you day in, day out and no matter what you do, nothing will satisfy it's hunger.

Life in general has a way of making you tired...life loses it's novelty.

You just get sick of everything. The stupidist fucking thing and you're sick.

You can go for months thinking that you're okay, because there's nothing going wrong, everything's getting better.

But you've already had the disease, the demon is still there, and it WILL come back to haunt you because it won't be satisfied until it's fucked you over big time.

So you've gone months thinking you have everything under control and then RIP!. It tears the fabric of your sanity over nothing at all. Nothing's happened but you've heard the rip, you've felt it in every little microcosm in your body. I don't know if you have microcosms in your body, but whatever the tiniest thing in your body is. Every single one feels it.

After that, there's no reasoning with your demon. Take the line from 'Girl, Interrupted', "You like the movie, you live; you miss the train, you kill yourself".

Self-harm is your heroin, starvation is your grlorious feast, insomnia your bed companion.

All this and you're addicted to it. Nothing anyone says will have any meaning and you'll find yourself hating it all. You hate everyone and everything and the frustration inside builds and builds.

You're a ticking bomb. A ticking bomb with a very, VERY short fuse.

Each time you snap and fail, the fuse starts again.

But you always snap.

Always. It's only a matter of time and as the minutes tick by into hours, time's starting to run out.