her eyes spat tears the taste of rust

Blew the entire fucking day away. I just stared and stared at the walls and time just seemed to come to a still. What the hell am I doing and what the fuck is wrong with me. I do know. And when the body is half-willing and the mind is weak, the time just slips away unconsciously while you continue losing yourself, in yourself.

When did saying fuck lose all its cathartic quality. Nothing fucking helps.