I woke up dead today

[atragicthing]

I am sitting in my room right now, eating cheese and crackers. Enjoying my high. I have been hiding out in my room for days now. No longer is the living room the hot spot in the house. Ha. Anyhow, today Ralf went with his friends to see Opeth, so I went to Heather's for the cook out her and Andy were hosting. There were a handful of people there, none of which I talked to, none of which I knew. They were nice tho, and funny, and they prolly thought I was a rotten bitch, like most people who dont know me think, but the truth is... I just never have anything to say. That's the honest truth. I was never much for conversation. Or much for company either. I guess that's why I'm a writer and not a politician. Because you see, there are thoughts and equations and words and sentences, questions, answers, reasons and scenario's in my head allll day and night. Sometimes I can't sleep because the fuckng letters are forming words and structures and I have to right them down. And I can't sleep because they're scratching at the fucking walls inside my head, and they're just begging to get out. So, I have alll that in my head, and in my chest, and I never say a word. I just write it down in a quiet black notebook and stare you down with raging wet eyes.
I just write it all down.
I write everything down.
The way you smell.
The way you move.
The way I startle you when I lean in for a kiss.

The way you flash and bat your eyes.

Yes.
I keep it all here.
Yes, I keep it all with me.
In these pages stained red with blood,
words blurry and translucent from tears.
In bones brittle and hollow,
in this lump of velvet I call a heart,
(right here right here right here.)
Right here between the shade the ocean will be
when I cut free and dive in
and the exact amount of pressure I will have applied to my wrists
with that razor I keep under my pillow,
right before I take the plunge and dive
right before I take the plunge and dive.
xx