It all went downhill with my mental everything.
2-21-05
And when I ask you why you kissed his lips you sit there,
wordless, just sitting and listening to your own breathing,
not an utterance to me. I don't ask again, because I know it wasn't your intention to hurt me.
You ask me why I drowned myself in liqour and I tell you why, love. I tell you how much it hurts.
How you hurts. How much it burns... into me.
I tell you everything. Because you're the only one to tell.
But I don't tell you everything that echoes dreafullly within my mind.
I don't tell you how you're the only mannequin for me.
I don't tell you that you make me want to not exist in this world
for another second. You made me stay for so much longer.
Without you, I would be as breathless as our relationship now.
And if I'm wrong, I would still lay dreaming.
Do you recall before, when I said to you "I am a fucked up girl"
You replied with "It's okay, I like that girl"
I honestly belived you. And your words slithered into me. Making its way into my blood stream.
Mixing, melting into my toxic element.
Suddenly living had a point to it.
Have you lied to me?
I fell in 'love' with you.
Or maybe it's a chemical imbalance.
We're together now... but my lack of... you.. is damaging me.
You ask when it is going to end.
It doesn't... happen in my mind. Maybe
I should think harder? Maybe I should
take those artificially pressed happy pills and tell
you when. Maybe I should get "help" and let
a stranger with a degree in psychology tell me when it ends.
And now I can't stop my eyes
from leaking of what it has left.
I
Belong
to
you.
"Until you recover" plays
in my head like that of a record player.
Please tell me... please tell me what
I'm 'recovering' from.
How can I "recover" without you?
Mother.
She comes in my bedroom on a silent evening and finds my lips smiling upside-down. Eyes open
wide in fear and hysteria. My eyebrows hover over my eyes, making another uncomfortable
feature atop my face. My eyes shine more than yesterday.
You don't look sympathetic. You ask if I'm sad. You ask that question after you pushed me
around, slapped my inncent face and threw your hands around my necak, leaving red lines. As a
child.
You ask why I'm depressed after telling me how 'nothing' I was. You loved to kill me. You longed
to kill me. And after your "Why don't you die?"s, I would hurt myself... even more. Then there
you are with my psychiatrist, asking for a pill increase. Because as you say, I have no reason to
be hurt. I'm depressed and I need all help I can reach. I need to be drugged up and away from the
people I've (chemically) fallen in love with. I should be a Seventh Day Advantist- Christian just
as you are so I could have a better life.
I'm not Christian, mother, and I follow the Ten Commandments more than you.
I control my words, my actions, my mistakes more solemnly than you ever will. I'd rather be alone
in my own place without your company at any time. Alone in silence, depending on my prodigial
thoughts.
It wouldn't matter because, mother, I'm alone now, with you. In this house I have no one holding
me. I feel akward calling you "mother". Oh how I love when friends will complain of their
dysfunctional families... and they discern of how abuse is very much so dysfunctional... and not
of a lack of icecream.
I'm so envious of them and their home lives.
Envious of how they have mothers.
People stare and watch as I walk.
Sometimes I walk like a drugged infant. At times I'll walk as if I have breast. And I'm aware of my
"mutiple personalities". I don't understand why I hold so many personalities. I'm an ethereal girl.
A party monster. A silent, dreaming dancer. Can this all connect?
With my purity and alcohol intake. .... I guess that's why I heart me so much.
I'm open minded.
And the tall pretty boy in my lunch period. I love how I want to talk to him, but I hold back my
sentences and thoughts, because I would think I was bothering him. Even if he's the approacher. I
love how I think I'm hideous, while the crowd kisses me and admires my features.
Maybe I don't have any friends. Perhaps.
Today a friend of mine broke up with his boyfriend.
It made me upset of why he did. His excuse- We never see each other.
Don't you date someone for them? You date them because you're so drawn to them that
everything else doesn't matter anymore because they have you and you have them. And if you
haven't seen them in a long time for some reason you make a strong effort to be with them
closely? I think I know what commitment means.
Chemical imbalance?
Other than thoughts, I've come to realize that I'm only talented in the following activities;
Dancing
Painting
Sex
Modeling
Perhaps I am to become well known. That means I should buy more canvas's, dance more
exotically than I ever have, if it's possible, open my mouth and embrace my tongue with pleasently
stinging silver, and pose and walk more like Paris Hilton.
Here I go
<3
Yours Truly,
Vodka