...random theraputic post
Hey, I haven't updated in a while. yeah. today pretty much sucked. I lost my favorite ring somewhere and now I'm in a really bad mood cause it was special and rather expensive. I hadn't even had it for a month yet. yeah. And then I get home and my mom is in a bad mood too cause my dad's a bum and sits on his butt all day. So now I feel worse because my mom thinks she has to do everything. And my stupid brother wouldn't shut up, making stupid noises even after I told him to shut up and started crying. I wanted to smash my malfunctioning laptop over my own head just to knock myself out or something. The said computer had decided to trun itself off right when I was in the middle of writing a poem to help me deal with the stuff that's been going on lately. It killed my muse right there.
And before the muse's blood had even cooled, raucous singing broke out, reverberating off of the brick walls. "YOU LOVE PEYTON!!!!" they sang. I don't anymore. Too many lies and false hopes are strewn about like the eggshells that I walk on, their remains stabbing me as I walk. All I see now is red; the anger clouding my vision has been building for a long time. But that's not the red that hurts. The blood I see, my own innermost feelings no longer inside, is wiped up because it no longer matters anymore. I smash my head against the moulding around a doorway, teetering on the edge of the abyss that is depression and calamity. I fall into the pitch darkness. The sweet darkness of a thousand moonless nights where faces no longer mattered and we followed our hearts to the knights and x's that we hear about but never see. No one is there to catch me.
...But even boundless space has its ends. The stars have their beginnings, their purposes, their direction. They're not missed until well after they've gone, when it's too late for words. No gradual death like the flowers I never got. Nor the evanescing rain. The past is all that remains, all that remains.
And before the muse's blood had even cooled, raucous singing broke out, reverberating off of the brick walls. "YOU LOVE PEYTON!!!!" they sang. I don't anymore. Too many lies and false hopes are strewn about like the eggshells that I walk on, their remains stabbing me as I walk. All I see now is red; the anger clouding my vision has been building for a long time. But that's not the red that hurts. The blood I see, my own innermost feelings no longer inside, is wiped up because it no longer matters anymore. I smash my head against the moulding around a doorway, teetering on the edge of the abyss that is depression and calamity. I fall into the pitch darkness. The sweet darkness of a thousand moonless nights where faces no longer mattered and we followed our hearts to the knights and x's that we hear about but never see. No one is there to catch me.
...But even boundless space has its ends. The stars have their beginnings, their purposes, their direction. They're not missed until well after they've gone, when it's too late for words. No gradual death like the flowers I never got. Nor the evanescing rain. The past is all that remains, all that remains.