They're knocking again. No idea why, or who they are, but it's frightening.
An indescribable, terrible feeling that can't be put aside.
I wish I knew why I can't sleep.
Though I haven't been writing I have been feeling paranoid, happy, sad (but I don't know why), over-enthusiastic, in the middle of a complete breakdown-psycho-preternatural-bullshit phase where I don't know who or what I am.
Nothing seems to push me forward, I'm stuck in a rut of fear and loathing, and not even that fuck-head Nixon can get me out.
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