Excessive

I haven't been doing well recently, and it seems like the only time I write is when I feel this way, or at least it seems all my entries start with the same sentence. How many times do I have to complain about the same thing before it stops holding any meaning?

I haven't taken a sleeping pill for days, maybe that's why I've let th writing slip, or maybe it's just been because of how busy I've been, or maybe it's because my E key is being annoying as fucking hell, who knows. I do know that the last few days have been very busy, very active, very blurry. I've taken too much Xanax due to... whatever, school and then retardedness, and it's effected my memories of the last few days.

Why must I never get tired? Why can't I just get super sleepy and tired and want nothing more but to curl up under blankets and fall asleep. I sit here at 3:16am and I am wide awake; I could go about my day as if I had just slept the entire night and not know any different. I feel cursed, and frustrated. It's tempting to take a sleeping pill, and there aren't many good reasons not too, but principle, it's the idea that I don't have to rely on it is what stops me.

Alright well, Ally did a survey and I haven't done one in probably a year and a half, so I figured I might as well since they're fun to do and some people enjoy reading them because you get tons of information with only having to read a tiny bit of things, so here:

I seem to have gained a natural resistence to heat, or hot bath water anyway. I just took a bath in scorching hot water, which burned at first, but once I got in, I didn't really mind it. The only reason I noticed it was so hot was because when I lifted my arm and hand out of the water, it was heavily steaming. Kinda neat.. hehe. It's relaxing to have it that hot... your muscles kinda melt.

Sometimes I feel so fucking confined; in this chair, in this building, in this fucking ugly skin. I feel like something is going to burst out of my chest, from my lungs, burst from behind my eyes and through my fingers. I want to get up out of this fucking chair and scream, and yell and fall to my knees and scream until it burns, if only in an attempt to free myself. I want to yell and cry and get the hell out of here. I want to get free, I want to feel like myself and act the way I want to act and just be myself. I fucking hate all of this... I sometimes wonder if I just got up and left work, if anyone would even notice; Probably no one would notice. It's strange to me that humans must suffer in order to feel anything else. I wish I were a cat...