ripping out the sutures
(I fear I might interject now)
Listening to old cds that I never thought I would have a use for (this will break your heart) but right now, they soothe more then any repeated melody ever will.
Dasa is going to Horning’s Hideout in Oregon with us - you have no idea how happy I am about this. I am going to have all three of my brothers there with me. Evan will be fresh out the penitentiary (for reals, a real life jail cell) and Sidd with always have the ability to make me cry.
I’ve been picking at scabs - yes, it finally scabbed carefully over - because maybe I don’t want these wounds to heal. Then, all I will have is a slowly fading scar and another reason to penetrate deeper.
My mom has been sugar queen again today, coming up next to me just to say she loves me, and when I told her I have the average teenage angst, she said that I am not ordinary. So I said I am less then average. She likes to argue with me on these points.
So why the change of heart? I think she has an inkling of what’s going on underneath the sheets. I broke open 2 new razors today, bringing the total of tools around my room to 9. And there are 2 more in the bathroom. I like to have many opportunities for destruction, you know?
Someone told me earlier that it wouldn’t be easier if I were gone, because I would leave behind a lot of people who care about me, grieving. They already are grieving - I hate this.
I hate how I can’t get everything together. I tell myself the same lies with the hopes they will become truths and I hate how I CANT WRITE and I hate how…o fuck I hate everything right now…
She’s concerned about me. Who wouldn’t be? For the first time, I’m actually contemplating the last descent and I’m not the only one who knows this.
I’ll clean out my locker early so no one will have to do it for me. I will strip the pictures off my walls so no one knows the real me. I will erase all my word documents that I type in when I wake up in the middle of the night and have countless words imprinted in my brain. I will burn the notebooks so no one can know the sorrow.
I do not want a legacy.
(I wont actually do it. It’s nice to contemplate because then I realize how many things I have and how fortunate I am)
I just want her to listen to me - and not give me polite stares in the car when I ramble about something that’s going on at school. I want her to give me feedback but not lecture. I want her to be my friend.
(I’m falling in love to fail, too boost my notebook sales. CHOKING UP THIS WATER WAS NEVER MY INTENTION BUT WHEN HAVE I INTENDED ANYTHING LESS THE STELLER?)
Listening to old cds that I never thought I would have a use for (this will break your heart) but right now, they soothe more then any repeated melody ever will.
Dasa is going to Horning’s Hideout in Oregon with us - you have no idea how happy I am about this. I am going to have all three of my brothers there with me. Evan will be fresh out the penitentiary (for reals, a real life jail cell) and Sidd with always have the ability to make me cry.
I’ve been picking at scabs - yes, it finally scabbed carefully over - because maybe I don’t want these wounds to heal. Then, all I will have is a slowly fading scar and another reason to penetrate deeper.
My mom has been sugar queen again today, coming up next to me just to say she loves me, and when I told her I have the average teenage angst, she said that I am not ordinary. So I said I am less then average. She likes to argue with me on these points.
So why the change of heart? I think she has an inkling of what’s going on underneath the sheets. I broke open 2 new razors today, bringing the total of tools around my room to 9. And there are 2 more in the bathroom. I like to have many opportunities for destruction, you know?
Someone told me earlier that it wouldn’t be easier if I were gone, because I would leave behind a lot of people who care about me, grieving. They already are grieving - I hate this.
I hate how I can’t get everything together. I tell myself the same lies with the hopes they will become truths and I hate how I CANT WRITE and I hate how…o fuck I hate everything right now…
She’s concerned about me. Who wouldn’t be? For the first time, I’m actually contemplating the last descent and I’m not the only one who knows this.
I’ll clean out my locker early so no one will have to do it for me. I will strip the pictures off my walls so no one knows the real me. I will erase all my word documents that I type in when I wake up in the middle of the night and have countless words imprinted in my brain. I will burn the notebooks so no one can know the sorrow.
I do not want a legacy.
(I wont actually do it. It’s nice to contemplate because then I realize how many things I have and how fortunate I am)
I just want her to listen to me - and not give me polite stares in the car when I ramble about something that’s going on at school. I want her to give me feedback but not lecture. I want her to be my friend.
(I’m falling in love to fail, too boost my notebook sales. CHOKING UP THIS WATER WAS NEVER MY INTENTION BUT WHEN HAVE I INTENDED ANYTHING LESS THE STELLER?)