I WANT TO BANG MY HEAD ON THE WALL and let it break and bleed then turn into mush. i want to rip my head off, open it up with scalpel through the spinal cord to the frontal skull and take the brain so that i can sleep in the rem phase for a bit. maybe if there were some kind of pills that can shut the nerves down (which i believe there is, but i do not know how to obtain it), i would buythem until there is no space in my room for anything else except for packs of pills. i am too apathetic to give a fuck if i end up spinning and falling and then wake up like a loser who gets home after sucking the gallons of beer down so that he would at least feel better. maybe i am him, or her, or whatever that very human want to be called. maybe my brain rambles many things about which i have regretted, or mistakes i should have avoided, or silly things that can be omitted from my mind library if i were having a tiny ounce of self-control. maybe—and it will never be a certainty because i am yet to become a neurologist—maybe it is my circadian clock that is too wreck to be fixed. old habits die hard indeed, or screaming, for something hyperbole. and i cannot offer another maybe because anything can be the root of my ruptured branch of brain and it is so contemptible wish i could just take it off and trade it with a more functional one.