| meet my fish slit. |
[02 Aug 2003|08:34pm] |
i hope i get out of my house tonight. sneaky bitch, aye. out my window.er..im supposed to walk my dog. YaY! i gotta dog. isnt that nifty? err, indeed. i like dogs...someday ill get a rottweiler & buy him a spiky collar just like mine! but until then...i have this sweet brown and white hound i named madison. hes a good boy. he wants to eat cats. oooo what a good boy. i dont like kitties. my iguanas got a new cage. its big. hes moving in tomorrow. i think. and i want a rat. or a snake. hmmm. meh. i missed my lovelys phone call...assuming that he called like he said he was gonna....hmmm.
boys lie.
go dyke!
i <3 angelina, brody, & talena
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[02 Aug 2003|08:27pm] |
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sometimes i just want them to see me in a breakdown. to see the blood running down my arms wanting them to realize im huting. i want them to watch me dig the metal into my own skin. wanting them to wake up and see what theyve done. see that i lie on my bed crying for no apparent reason. my face is emotionless, its like it doesnt know what its doing. i dont know what im doing. they just roll down, then i think about these pointless tears & why theyre there...then i think about all the reasons i could be crying & break into heavy sobs, with noises of me chiking on tears & trying to suck in air. i want to scream "i want my mommy", like after my dad easily tore down my 5 year old happiness. i want to be hugged. but if i screamed it now no one would answer, no one would hug me now. when i try to expain why im not happy i cry and scream...when a teacher tells me im failing & asks if im having problems at home i have to blink back tears. when i talk about suicide i cry. no one knows how every night, no matter how well the days gone i let out years of misery--cutting and crying. if im on the phone and they say i dont sound myself & ask whats wrong i tell them im fine. why bother telling them that a cut i made on my shoulder has gotten blood all down my arms and is underneath my fingernails? or that i stained my carpet with blood from my wrist? im out to get myself, no one else. i wont call someone i care about. i want it to be perfect, and it cant because of me--so i distance myself from disapointment. im saying stuff ive never have before, i suppose if writing wasnt my way out no one would know. but i dont need to know who read what. its not that im worried about hiding it. if there was anyone left to hide it from that might matter. so by writing this i attempt to get this out and indirectly invite you into my mind, i forfeit myself to you. i know im fucked up, i didnt want to stop, so i never tried. i probably should have listening. when i cave in everynight and want to die for nothing, and now the surface cuts dont helo anymore, and you have to go deeper for it to have any affect....and if it went any deeper that would defeat the purpose. you feel the same, if not more empty than before. then you realize that there really isnt a purpose. so you sit there sobbing, head throbbing, eyes sswelled shut, your arm sandwiched between your body & your bed. not worrying about how bloods getting all over your sheets & shirt & that tomorrow morning you must somehow sneak into the bathroom & wash crusted blood off your arms--then you have to find some way to hide them. but you dont think then-cause you cant. and the same desire comes back the next night. always unsatisfied. so while i sit there wondering why i cant stop i am tempter to sit there & blink the next time my door swings open. maybe theyll realize maybe thatll make a difference. but you'll hide again, cause thats what we do.
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| written 7/28 by me |
[30 Jul 2003|11:36am] |
its scattered now
the original christian sin
its shed now
...you're free if you dont live
lift up sleeves like a virgins dress
prepare yourself to penetrate
unorganized thoughts
chemical inbalance in the brain
this is for all the times
that you've felt betrayed
a slash for the love you gave
a cut for you're consummed by hate
maybe the blood will clot
hopefully when its too late
--to the floor
raked veins
dirtied razor blades
too bad i was dead for a week yesterday
--to the ground
your privacy
your isolation
like your wounds your lies are open for public display
a scar for your memories
can you see the blood in candle light?
searching for a release to set me free
im winning but its myself i fight
you seduced me
you molested me
you violated me
so lift up my black bloodied sleeve
and lick my strawberry gashes for me
no ones here to break my heart
cause im not here anymore
and the false advertisements of myself
are abandoned on my bathroom floor
and someday that you'll never see
you'll realize you're the one that killed me
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[30 Jul 2003|11:29am] |
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hunger pains hunger pains. i hope i get to see laura. i love laura. lately i was happy, i think i fooled myself.
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