entry four:

Allright.

Let's see, dear reader...

Day 1763, I guess, on the island of my room, and I am starving.

I miss meeting with other people when I hold myself like, now. So, yeah, I haven't lately. And 11th day of that has passed now and I am sick of myself.

And oh those poor guys, they have all preached the angel side of me. So please don't try to make friends with me.

Me? I hear you asking...

I took Tarçın out, like how it's suppose to be. And don't worry, I am taking my meds. And 4 days ago I had cut all of my hair. I remember the sun is sinking it's sting onto my lungs from my neck. It was a beautiful feeling, cause as you all know I hate cold. I hate cold because of it's representatives. Have you ever shared a cold meal with someone giving you their side of cold stares? I am always, quickly, running away. But anyway, back to my cutted hair... I am also going to dye them red. And I will trick myself with thinking about the moment I had written " "Smiling", It was written" while I shuffle my new purchased tarot deck.

And I will not overthink. Well, at least about what my brother said last night. Cause his point is a fact. I will not think about the frustration I usually get at night, on the force, on the run from many things. I will not overthink about the fact that I just can't eat. Even though I am absolutely starving. I know that I should get some multivitamins, get b12 shots and melatonin gums at night but I just won't. L'appel du vide, my love, and now you must understand that is good for me to stay at my house at nights, and in the mornings too.

Starving. Attention. Quitter and Indecisive. Apologies. If I add one more words I will be saying too much. But I will always see until I go blind and hear till I am deaf, and that's just scary. "Why would you even make the eyes?" So I am concerned, dear reader. My mother raises fault to of all things that I had put into my mind. Through my eyes, through my ears. I don't know anything, the more I know the less I understand. I just want to be enough, but this time for myself. I want to say 'Allright, I had enough" but I never seems to manage to say. But I want to say it, really. The wanting, yearning, desires of growing hunger in me I believe will never dissipate. I will end up in here, if anyway. Feets and hands are freezing, head is aching and I am getting chillies over my back every now and them. I am tired, dear reader, of the things that will never end until I finnaly have it enough.

This is all I can type for now. You see, right? It's just not crystal clear enough, voila. But I see. And I must go now, if you don't mind. Leave a question on when you stumble on here back.