-American Horror Story (via itookmygaypillstoday)
I know I did anything I could to not feel; sex, drugs, booze. Just take away the pain. Take away my mother and my asshole father and the press and all the boys I loved who wouldn’t love me back. Hell, I was gang raped and two days later I was back in class like nothing had ever happened. I mean, that must have hurt like hell, right? Most people never get over stuff like that and I was like, “Let’s go get Jamba juice!”
I would give everything I have or will ever have just to feel pain again; to hurt. Thank God for Fiona and her herb garden. One advantage of being kind of dead is that you don’t have to sweat warning labels. There was this one brown liquid that I thought made my nipples tingle for a second but I think it was psychosematic because I polished off the rest of it and didn’t feel shit. I tried every eye of nute and wing of fly until I found something that made me not look like Marilyn Manson anymore.
And that’s the rub of all this, isn’t it? I can’t feel shit. I can’t feel anything. We think that pain is the worst feeling. It isn’t. How could anything be worse than this eternal silence inside of me.
I use to not eat for days or eat like crazy then stick my fingers down my throat. Now no matter how much I binge I can’t fill this hole inside me.
I can’t take it anymore. I think I’m going batshit. I need to do something.