Well that was fucking pointless

If I had ever gone to college I would have become a doctor so I could cut myself open to examine the workings of my bleeding guts. I'd lay them out, one by one, and finally see everything that makes me feel so fucked up. As I bled to death I'd wonder if it was one girl or some other that turned me into the bloody mess that I've become. Everyone's had a broken heart, but I never calculated that, somehow, my small intestine would have become caught up in such things. My stomach, spleen, gallbladder, and liver all scream the name of someone who's made them so damaged that I can't even look some people in the face without feeling them all lurch forward and try the escape my skin. Its pathetic, I guess. Some people have the ability to not care. This has become painfully obvious to me lately now that I spend my nights either alone or awkwardly staring at a wall because, out of the two people sitting there, I'm the only one speaking. I wish I could break myself that badly. Maybe I'd be better off spending all that college money on a trade school so I know how to build walls as strong as yours.