Televators
Hm.
It seems as though early mornings are good times to reflect.
I still have a buzzing in my head.
I hope I'm not sick.
I think I should get a paid account. I want to put audio entries so I don't have to type so much. Even though I type like...sixty to eighty words a minute or something.
Probably more, since that was in eighth grade. >_<
When I was sleeping earlier, I had a dream that I woke up and my dad was dead.
Hm...funny, 'cuz that's what happened two years ago.
In 17 days, it'll have been two years travelling this road alone.
Two years wanting more and receiving nothing.
Two years watching all the other dads and dying inside, over and over and over again.
Two years hoping, praying, that this is just some fucked up, perversive joke that God has played on me.
Two years waiting for the end, so that I can see him again.
Two years sitting on the back of my horse, petting her, remembering.
Two years dreaming of the day that was my downfall.
Two years crying myself to sleep.
Two years frantically searching for something to fill the void.
Two years choking on my own tears.
It took me one day two become emotionally scarred and then hardened. Emotionally traumatized, writhing in my own skin...his skin.
One day to change my eyes to his.
One day to permanently doubt the existence of anything holy.
One day to forget how to remember.
And...the funny thing is...I still wake up in the middle of the night because of his scent, his voice, remembering everything I can't when I need him most.
And everyone says he's there in my heart. That he'll always be there in my heart. Inside.
But there is nothing inside.
And everyone here seems to "know how" I feel. They don't know. They're giving me false hope. That's all that it is down here, false hope. Everyone wants to "become something" when there is nothing to become and they can't even overcome what's left of themselves.
I think sometimes that there's not really a reason for this. That the dice gave me snake eyes. That my father was never really there...
...and if that's true, then I should've pulled that fucking trigger.
But Cookie won't let me. Even if I tried, she'd float there in my eyes, gallopping across acres of wildflowers or something...not letting me go. Holding me back.
And I will, for her.
But only for her.
I know a lot of you think I won't because I have "great friends" and "a wonderful family," but the only one keeping me here is that horse. I'm sorry, but you guys suck.
And Abby, this excludes you, because you had to deal with me the day he died. And because you do know.
But right about now, everyone can go fuck themselves. It's what most of the people down here are doing anyway. Jump on the bandwagon.
I'll ride my horse, thank you.
Wo bist du, meinem Vati?
Ich liebe dich!
Ich liebe dich mal dan dir kannst wissen.
--Kat (nya)
Le Reptile
It seems as though early mornings are good times to reflect.
I still have a buzzing in my head.
I hope I'm not sick.
I think I should get a paid account. I want to put audio entries so I don't have to type so much. Even though I type like...sixty to eighty words a minute or something.
Probably more, since that was in eighth grade. >_<
When I was sleeping earlier, I had a dream that I woke up and my dad was dead.
Hm...funny, 'cuz that's what happened two years ago.
In 17 days, it'll have been two years travelling this road alone.
Two years wanting more and receiving nothing.
Two years watching all the other dads and dying inside, over and over and over again.
Two years hoping, praying, that this is just some fucked up, perversive joke that God has played on me.
Two years waiting for the end, so that I can see him again.
Two years sitting on the back of my horse, petting her, remembering.
Two years dreaming of the day that was my downfall.
Two years crying myself to sleep.
Two years frantically searching for something to fill the void.
Two years choking on my own tears.
It took me one day two become emotionally scarred and then hardened. Emotionally traumatized, writhing in my own skin...his skin.
One day to change my eyes to his.
One day to permanently doubt the existence of anything holy.
One day to forget how to remember.
And...the funny thing is...I still wake up in the middle of the night because of his scent, his voice, remembering everything I can't when I need him most.
And everyone says he's there in my heart. That he'll always be there in my heart. Inside.
But there is nothing inside.
And everyone here seems to "know how" I feel. They don't know. They're giving me false hope. That's all that it is down here, false hope. Everyone wants to "become something" when there is nothing to become and they can't even overcome what's left of themselves.
I think sometimes that there's not really a reason for this. That the dice gave me snake eyes. That my father was never really there...
...and if that's true, then I should've pulled that fucking trigger.
But Cookie won't let me. Even if I tried, she'd float there in my eyes, gallopping across acres of wildflowers or something...not letting me go. Holding me back.
And I will, for her.
But only for her.
I know a lot of you think I won't because I have "great friends" and "a wonderful family," but the only one keeping me here is that horse. I'm sorry, but you guys suck.
And Abby, this excludes you, because you had to deal with me the day he died. And because you do know.
But right about now, everyone can go fuck themselves. It's what most of the people down here are doing anyway. Jump on the bandwagon.
I'll ride my horse, thank you.
Wo bist du, meinem Vati?
Ich liebe dich!
Ich liebe dich mal dan dir kannst wissen.
--Kat (nya)
Le Reptile