my own shit.
so instead of rewriting what i had before, im gonna write down this shit i just wrote in my own journal. i thought it would be nice to share...sorry if it's too intense or something like that...
Doesn't it make you sick?
Seeing my every action,
seeing what makes me tick.
when i touch myself,
you squint in disgust
wondering how someone so ugly
can be loved like that.
And by being loved like that,
it takes away the other love that seems
to be real.
True Life.
I am not real. Nothing is real.
Everything is real. Isn't that a song
I once heard? I am stealing.
I am dirty and alone
I cant stop them.
Please make these twisted ideas
unravel themselves so that they can better
escape the small crevaces of my skull
Now.
You are not so alone when escape
becomes the answer.
But I didn't ask a question
Sniff. Nothing?
Is it all in my head?
Somebody tell me i'm crazy
label me and seal me with
plastic wrap. The
waterproof kind, the type that keeps
everything out and the rest in.
Never to escape. We dont need
chains to be tied down.
Look there to gain some kind of assistance
no one can help.
its solution lies in the palm of your
own hand.
it's yours.
"Everything is a choice" she says so
fucking condescendingly.
You're right to some extent.
But you're forgetting about
maybe a couple million people.
Fuck openness. No one
is. Everyone judges. Whatever.
Choices make changes make love make babies make noise.
In my ear, I hear your screech.
Listen: Just listen.
it isnt dark nor light nor anything in between
it's of its own kind.
Rinse it away. Rinse away this intense
pain
that eats your insides, so that you have to look
inside your stomach to know the
holes its creating.
These dark, consuming holes.
Closer to the end.
Until the breath escapes one
final time
Is it over?
Feel it.
Look at me.
The You is Me and the I is You.
Never again the same.
Never the same again.
Done.
Doesn't it make you sick?
Seeing my every action,
seeing what makes me tick.
when i touch myself,
you squint in disgust
wondering how someone so ugly
can be loved like that.
And by being loved like that,
it takes away the other love that seems
to be real.
True Life.
I am not real. Nothing is real.
Everything is real. Isn't that a song
I once heard? I am stealing.
I am dirty and alone
I cant stop them.
Please make these twisted ideas
unravel themselves so that they can better
escape the small crevaces of my skull
Now.
You are not so alone when escape
becomes the answer.
But I didn't ask a question
Sniff. Nothing?
Is it all in my head?
Somebody tell me i'm crazy
label me and seal me with
plastic wrap. The
waterproof kind, the type that keeps
everything out and the rest in.
Never to escape. We dont need
chains to be tied down.
Look there to gain some kind of assistance
no one can help.
its solution lies in the palm of your
own hand.
it's yours.
"Everything is a choice" she says so
fucking condescendingly.
You're right to some extent.
But you're forgetting about
maybe a couple million people.
Fuck openness. No one
is. Everyone judges. Whatever.
Choices make changes make love make babies make noise.
In my ear, I hear your screech.
Listen: Just listen.
it isnt dark nor light nor anything in between
it's of its own kind.
Rinse it away. Rinse away this intense
pain
that eats your insides, so that you have to look
inside your stomach to know the
holes its creating.
These dark, consuming holes.
Closer to the end.
Until the breath escapes one
final time
Is it over?
Feel it.
Look at me.
The You is Me and the I is You.
Never again the same.
Never the same again.
Done.