(no subject)
Everyone's saying you look so sad, you're so sad aren't you. Trying to cover the sheets over my head because there's a fire fly in my room. Trying to keep it all in and not crash you know. You're so stressed out, you're keeping something in. What's wrong, bad weather depresses me too. Missing sunsets and cigarettes the only thing that excites me is the chance to sit and appreciate something. Like I'll ever see that anything at all. It feels like a put down, and you think as hard as you can. Relive situations that are worse now than they ever were. Only because you didnt deal with it at the time. Still felt her pounding on my car, blue flashing lights behind me. Half gallon of vodka beneath my blood. Hidden in my veins is something inside, a DNA code for failure. But how do you tell people who once said that you, yes you were their favorite. Or atleast one of them. Breathe again, it's not the end. No one likes my art because it doesnt compare to their own hearts. We're all so great, or atleast you have someone to reassure you of how much you're not dwelling on the past. And it's just karmic fate when things come back to you, you never learn your lesson because you play the blame game. I want to play a new one, dance all night, truth is an art itself. Speak to me so I can help myself, its chronic, this karmic fate, how do you tell people thats your official handicap. One of those little blue stickers and people say you look completely fine don't you? No broken limbs, no shattered bones, just an ugly smile with loose lips that dont remember how to kiss, when I lie down maybe now I can create something worth being made. And I want to make sense above everything else. To look down at my masterpiece, and feel like God himself. Maybe I need something in my life. Maybe its just loneliness. I need tv, commercials, xantax and heartache relief. Something that has been bugging me but its my whole life, my own mistakes that haunt me. And that isnt the worst thing thats ever happened. And my mom hasnt been around. No ones around but me. And all you fucking kids that think they have it so bad, if you want to know the truth, you'll never hear me complain about one of my real problems, because honestly no one cares. We all just bitch and brag till we all fall down. Those ashes were regret itself. Not God, not love but apparitions in the ceiling that laugh and point as you scream at the top of your lungs. Get out of my head, get out right now. Before I breathe so hard, I lose every second spent drifting so far. I need these days to remember all I've been. And all these morning thinking of myself. If only traces of it were left on the shoreline, in the sand for me to check and pinpoint a strategic line of this ill-spent youth. I could draw back some energy of my old self. All I do is think of others. But most of this time has been spent in introspection. Today is Tilly's birthday and I'm too afraid to call because I dont know for sure if she's still alive and I'm ashamed of my entire existence.