(no subject)
i feel so dead. i desperately don't want in on this. i don't want this lifestyle. so i'm alone in this house again, beating paint off the walls with my fists. letting the shower wash away the tears i cry, and then slip sliding down tiles. i'll turn the music up loud for company instead, run my fingers through my hair. my frame is bent, curled, fractured on the sofa. i'm empty, but full, and lost with purpose. i'm losing words and it isn't pretty.