(no subject)
this was the first time I swear, and it's ok. I did it beacsue I knew that I was over it all enough finally just to allow myself to check up on your life. I'm a curious girl.
I cried for you a little bit. If I had known this is what you were going to be like I would have predicted that I would be content...triumphant. but it was not a triumph.....I'm miserable. I'm miserable for you.....I think thats called empathy...I'm not too sure...those of you who know me, you know that i am not familliar with the term.
You were so nice. through and through you were such a good perosn. I always envyed that about you. I'm not sure if you are still nice. You may be on the outside...but I know that your ruined underneath your skin. You're not beautiful anymore. You have the same eyes, skin, teeth....but they are no longer beautiful...not to me. Apparently others buy them, but not me. I knew you when you were really beautful...no not beautiful....stunning.
No one has done this to you, you have done it to yourself. I think you believe, in whats left of your insides, that you are happy. You are almost convinced that your transformation was the right thing. This thought gives me comfort. It comforts me because I know the worst is to come. I know what it will be like on the day you realize what you have done to yourself. I'm glad that I will not be near you when this happens. I hope you can somehow pull yourself through that time, because this transformation is permanant. It's not like a teddybear that you can stuff the insides back in and sew it back up with only a little stitch. You have made the monster, now you must live with it.
I know you didn't know that this would happen, you didn't realize you were lettig it get this far. You can no longer diffferntiate between what is real and what you pretended to be real. But whats worse than all of this, you no longer know how to love. You used to love so easily and freely. This I know, is what you will miss most of all.
You wonder how I know this. You should wonder how I could miss it. It pours out of every fiber of your being. It drips out your eyes and mouth, it darken your skin, it ripples from your fingers. The only smile that your crayon white teeth show is one you have thought about, edited and censored. It comes out like a pre-made farce. Every movment is calculated, every response weighed and measure, if not right on the spot, then in some other situation, and then regurgitated back in the form of meaningless words.
I cried for you a little bit. But now i realize I didn' t cry for the thing you have become, but for what you used to be. I cannot cry for you now, because I would be crying over nothing.
I cried for you a little bit. If I had known this is what you were going to be like I would have predicted that I would be content...triumphant. but it was not a triumph.....I'm miserable. I'm miserable for you.....I think thats called empathy...I'm not too sure...those of you who know me, you know that i am not familliar with the term.
You were so nice. through and through you were such a good perosn. I always envyed that about you. I'm not sure if you are still nice. You may be on the outside...but I know that your ruined underneath your skin. You're not beautiful anymore. You have the same eyes, skin, teeth....but they are no longer beautiful...not to me. Apparently others buy them, but not me. I knew you when you were really beautful...no not beautiful....stunning.
No one has done this to you, you have done it to yourself. I think you believe, in whats left of your insides, that you are happy. You are almost convinced that your transformation was the right thing. This thought gives me comfort. It comforts me because I know the worst is to come. I know what it will be like on the day you realize what you have done to yourself. I'm glad that I will not be near you when this happens. I hope you can somehow pull yourself through that time, because this transformation is permanant. It's not like a teddybear that you can stuff the insides back in and sew it back up with only a little stitch. You have made the monster, now you must live with it.
I know you didn't know that this would happen, you didn't realize you were lettig it get this far. You can no longer diffferntiate between what is real and what you pretended to be real. But whats worse than all of this, you no longer know how to love. You used to love so easily and freely. This I know, is what you will miss most of all.
You wonder how I know this. You should wonder how I could miss it. It pours out of every fiber of your being. It drips out your eyes and mouth, it darken your skin, it ripples from your fingers. The only smile that your crayon white teeth show is one you have thought about, edited and censored. It comes out like a pre-made farce. Every movment is calculated, every response weighed and measure, if not right on the spot, then in some other situation, and then regurgitated back in the form of meaningless words.
I cried for you a little bit. But now i realize I didn' t cry for the thing you have become, but for what you used to be. I cannot cry for you now, because I would be crying over nothing.