EmotionGarbagePit

I hate noise, but what I hate more than noise is silence.

I woke up with an itch in my hair, which made sense, I had not washed it in a good while, the spider that disappeared in my bathroom is to blame, something about her made my skin crawl, I hate things that crawl, maybe thats why I hate myself. Had some coffee like usual, even though I know for a fact that water makes me wake up faster than coffee, I cant help but drink it, I guess Im addicted, not much to do, my mom was the same way. Work sucked as usual, Mark was at it again, about how this idea would "save the company!" and how "This time it has to work!", poor guy, he just does not get it. On the bus a guy argued with the bus driver, something about the speed limit, I guess he doesn't understand how the bus drivers operate these days, the bus driver was a good sport and played it cool, the other guys just didn't get it. At last I was home, free from outside, and now trapped by the indoors, just like how I intended it, I just don't get how people go out clubbing after work, I could never give up my home time, but I guess home is where the heart is, so maybe their hearts crave loud noises and alcohol like mine craves my bed, I just don't seem to get any other comfort these days, especially with the hair itch. I decided to not wash my hair, at the time I didn't get how important it could be, so I just went to bed, comfortably lying in my self-hate and my dirty hair. I kept on going, coffee made me comfortable, I don't get how I ever lived without it, the itch was still there, but I payed it no mind, after all I had no time to suffer from anything else, already had a lot to get through, like Mark, he still does not get it. When I got home there was a beatle on my living room floor, how could such a small, tiny, powerless cringer make me so small tiny and powerless? I don't get it. Took all my will to do it, kill it that is, my skin was still crawling, and my head was still itching, and my coffee was still cold. I got into the shower, and thats when a little spec of matter caught my attention, it was stuck to my hair, it was lice. It took me about 5 seconds to make the connection, then it started, first I was in denial, I can't have lice, I can't have it, I just don't get it. Panic came soon after, there were tens of little cringers crawling in my hair, eating my flesh, living in me, making my dead skin crawl with them. I shaved my heard, I put chemicals on my bald head, I threw away everything that could harbor them, I got rid of everything, all that remained was my no longer crawling skin and my still crawling paranoia, did I get the all? Are they dead? They must have been the reason why I hated myself, deep down I must have know that they were there, and I hated them, and now they are not here anymore. Do I still hate myself? There must be more, I don't get how, but there must be more. Tapeworms. I need to get the out, my guts are in the way, I need to get them out. Most people find comfort within themselves. I don't get it.

I recently had lice in my hair, I spent about 2 hours in the shower killing them, I got most of them, and the ones I didn't get went away with the chemicals I applied later.

But it got me thinking how lice would be the worts nightmare for someone with entomophobia, which is the fear of insects.

They make me wan't to cry, to punch stuff and to hate myself

There is so much to read, not enough to write. I envy ducks, they don't try and write, they don't try to sound cool, they mange to be better writers than me.