I can feel.
Ashley. False hope. False false hope. Stupid trust. Misplaced trust. Untamed heart with its unstoppable love. Its unceasing love that goes punished and punished and punished... She's engaged. Her ex girlfriend proposed to her. Why does that make me angry? We arent together...I'm with Laura. Well she happens to be just like me. She'd rather make everyone else happy than herself. Including her bitch of an ex that proposed to her. And she said yes. To make her happy. STUPID STUPID STUPID. And why does it piss me off so badly? Because Its exactly what I would do. She's making MY mistakes. The ones I end up hating myself for for the rest of my life. And I know one day it'll be the same for her. Its like an accident waiting to happen. My own accident being played out through another persons life.
And trying to stop all this dementia from taking place in my life is Like trying to stop a subway train with my bare hands. Its doing absolutely no good, and its killing me. And all the people on the subway watch helplessly out the windows as I'm crushed, bones snapping, blood spurting, by this oncoming, overwhelming disaster.I can see their faces pressed against the glass. The looks of horror agahst on their face. Frozen in agony like post-mortem. Like a photograph. I can feel their eyes on me. And even through my life-shattering tragedy I look back at them wanting to heal THEIR mental wounds...wanting to make THEM okay. Urging, longing so badly to wipe the dust off of their photograph..to clean up the dirt I've thrown into their lives...making a mess of everything, scarring some, Scaring many. I wish with all my heart I could tell them I'm gonna be okay. I wish I could say it's all better. That I could promise it would all stop. But that would be a promise with outstanding potential to be a hollow lie. And I despise liars. Despite my tendancy to become one, not purposely, but then, I dont try to prevent it either do I? I refuse to defend myself..so come to your own conclusions. The tracs of the subway end up ahead...straigh into a bottemless pit. The train will drive me there either way..but I yell and scream to the nearby spectators to leave the subway... Though dying alone is a painful and unthinkable demise...I want them to leave, I want nothing less than to drag them all down with me. The faithful few stay, I'm greatful for their fidelity but I push so far away...I scream at them to make them go...I decieve them..I become a cold unfeeling bitch. But I'm not unfeeling. Oh no. Not in the least. I feel it all. And thats the mistery more than few fail to solve. I feel every little bit. I can feel the blade touching the muscle beneath the skin. I can feel the skin rip. The blood flow. I can feel the blade inside my flesh. The stabbing pain at first and then the reclusive stinging. I can feel the urge for my own pain. The hybrid between my emotional instability and my blood-thirsty hunger to watch the crimson seep. To see it against the white of the napkins my room is littered with. Poor niave mother...thinking the tissues are for my runny nose. While the only use the tissues have is to catch my tears and absorb my blood. The only few who bear witness to my pain. The silver blade, and the pure white napkins. Soon to be stained with my addiction. The infinate bloodlets mixed with the salty teardrops that fall in streams from my face. Like a broken water faucet. Does no one hear it? dripping..dripping..dripping... They hear it. But they do not care.
the stars that float in the heavenly mobid sky crying tears that float up to the moon, whispering the painful secrets inevitably untold untill the moons foolish laughter dies away as slowly she begins to comprehend the grave matter at hand. One by one the stars fade away..blinking out like broken christmas lights. untill darkness fills the sky, and the moon falls from her mighty thrown realizing now that without the lights nothing holds any relevance. Without the lights...And the lone girl on the hill who stares up at the sky looks to the moon for her guiding light. She puts faith into the last hope. But the last hope is false hope. The moon turns her back and so the sun dies of misfortune. the Moon, unaware of its unparalleled generation of malice, is reluctant to give away its hostility despite the girl's benign pleas. So shes left in the dark. There's no sun to rise again. The moon stays turned away selfishly. and the girl finds the shattered pieces of the broken stars and slits her veins wide open. she writes a message on the sky...
people asked me how I was
I didnt know what to say
I wasnt doing better, but I got used to the pain
I hate my life of darkness
I cannot find the day
Im so weak and All alone
And you're all so far away...
dont worry about me..
I'm just fine..
I only had to slit my wrists one last time.
And I felt it.
Every last bit.
<3
Kitty
And trying to stop all this dementia from taking place in my life is Like trying to stop a subway train with my bare hands. Its doing absolutely no good, and its killing me. And all the people on the subway watch helplessly out the windows as I'm crushed, bones snapping, blood spurting, by this oncoming, overwhelming disaster.I can see their faces pressed against the glass. The looks of horror agahst on their face. Frozen in agony like post-mortem. Like a photograph. I can feel their eyes on me. And even through my life-shattering tragedy I look back at them wanting to heal THEIR mental wounds...wanting to make THEM okay. Urging, longing so badly to wipe the dust off of their photograph..to clean up the dirt I've thrown into their lives...making a mess of everything, scarring some, Scaring many. I wish with all my heart I could tell them I'm gonna be okay. I wish I could say it's all better. That I could promise it would all stop. But that would be a promise with outstanding potential to be a hollow lie. And I despise liars. Despite my tendancy to become one, not purposely, but then, I dont try to prevent it either do I? I refuse to defend myself..so come to your own conclusions. The tracs of the subway end up ahead...straigh into a bottemless pit. The train will drive me there either way..but I yell and scream to the nearby spectators to leave the subway... Though dying alone is a painful and unthinkable demise...I want them to leave, I want nothing less than to drag them all down with me. The faithful few stay, I'm greatful for their fidelity but I push so far away...I scream at them to make them go...I decieve them..I become a cold unfeeling bitch. But I'm not unfeeling. Oh no. Not in the least. I feel it all. And thats the mistery more than few fail to solve. I feel every little bit. I can feel the blade touching the muscle beneath the skin. I can feel the skin rip. The blood flow. I can feel the blade inside my flesh. The stabbing pain at first and then the reclusive stinging. I can feel the urge for my own pain. The hybrid between my emotional instability and my blood-thirsty hunger to watch the crimson seep. To see it against the white of the napkins my room is littered with. Poor niave mother...thinking the tissues are for my runny nose. While the only use the tissues have is to catch my tears and absorb my blood. The only few who bear witness to my pain. The silver blade, and the pure white napkins. Soon to be stained with my addiction. The infinate bloodlets mixed with the salty teardrops that fall in streams from my face. Like a broken water faucet. Does no one hear it? dripping..dripping..dripping... They hear it. But they do not care.
the stars that float in the heavenly mobid sky crying tears that float up to the moon, whispering the painful secrets inevitably untold untill the moons foolish laughter dies away as slowly she begins to comprehend the grave matter at hand. One by one the stars fade away..blinking out like broken christmas lights. untill darkness fills the sky, and the moon falls from her mighty thrown realizing now that without the lights nothing holds any relevance. Without the lights...And the lone girl on the hill who stares up at the sky looks to the moon for her guiding light. She puts faith into the last hope. But the last hope is false hope. The moon turns her back and so the sun dies of misfortune. the Moon, unaware of its unparalleled generation of malice, is reluctant to give away its hostility despite the girl's benign pleas. So shes left in the dark. There's no sun to rise again. The moon stays turned away selfishly. and the girl finds the shattered pieces of the broken stars and slits her veins wide open. she writes a message on the sky...
people asked me how I was
I didnt know what to say
I wasnt doing better, but I got used to the pain
I hate my life of darkness
I cannot find the day
Im so weak and All alone
And you're all so far away...
dont worry about me..
I'm just fine..
I only had to slit my wrists one last time.
And I felt it.
Every last bit.
<3
Kitty