down we go..
Air is stubborn and refuses to go inside ... what is it afraid of? I feel like a paper shell.... a futile cell for... it wants out. but there is nothing.. nothing inside me... and its stagnant like the depths of a bog... i want to tear apart.. but if i rip the flesh... the blood wont come... and i'll know... i want to feel something.. i want it to move...
GGGRRRRRRRRR i hate feeling like this.. id scream but that would only bring people.. and they arent any more real right now than i am.. i need to do something.. i need to cut a mark.. something noticable.. something that has a point.. there are so very few points... and people are ok with that... why cant i be ok with it? i dont like drama and im choking on the barren lack of it.. of anything.. none of this is making sense.. im going to start again...
i just ..no.. fuckit it im going to bed... i just.. i cant live with myself sometimes.. and not like that.. i mean... im just lonely.. and its catching up with me.. ok. tht makess mroe sense.. and.. i dont like that im not doing something ... big.. something that defines my life.. and everything else.. everything else is nothing i can do anything about.. that i just wait.. it will go away... i just wish it had a name.. or a face so i could claw its eyes out.. but its never in front of me.. always inside... a great worm that im sure will consume me when im dead.
GGGRRRRRRRRR i hate feeling like this.. id scream but that would only bring people.. and they arent any more real right now than i am.. i need to do something.. i need to cut a mark.. something noticable.. something that has a point.. there are so very few points... and people are ok with that... why cant i be ok with it? i dont like drama and im choking on the barren lack of it.. of anything.. none of this is making sense.. im going to start again...
i just ..no.. fuckit it im going to bed... i just.. i cant live with myself sometimes.. and not like that.. i mean... im just lonely.. and its catching up with me.. ok. tht makess mroe sense.. and.. i dont like that im not doing something ... big.. something that defines my life.. and everything else.. everything else is nothing i can do anything about.. that i just wait.. it will go away... i just wish it had a name.. or a face so i could claw its eyes out.. but its never in front of me.. always inside... a great worm that im sure will consume me when im dead.