(no subject)
i almost lost a friend today. not in the physical sense of death, but as a friend i almost lost this person. this is very uncomforting. so theres this war that i believe has come to an end. [i hope with all my heart that its over] i said many hatefull, and hurtfull, things. and in return got the same, and at the time i felt numb to what was going on, now i feel the full force of how it affected others. and what the person i was doing this to felt.
this happens alot. not the whole war thing, but the feeling numb to an emotion i should be feeling at that time. i find writing a good way to push those emotions out. lol, has anyone noticed that the word emotion starts with "emo" how ironic. that trend is slightly annoying me. all trends are annoying me. i know people think i'm a hypocrite for saying that. because i "look" emo. i respect your oppinion but fuck you, you cant classify me. see in actuallity i'm nothing. i'm me. all ways have been all ways will be. i dont fit in, i dont stand out.
i'm not a depressed person by nature, but i can get that way. its not random bipolar fits of rage and then the bliss of happiness. nothing like that. i just get down sometimes. doesnt everyone? i guess its natural. i like writing. i enjoy writing lyrics to songs that will never go anywhere; then i dont have to worry if they're good, right? some i think are really good, but they're writen when i'm angry or sad so they're not really happy songs.
for instance, and i know people will think i'm crazy after i post this. this is after my parents wouldn't let me go out with my friends for the millionth time:
cant you see i'm dying?
cant you see that every "no" you give me i loose a friend
they're already gone, out having fun with out me just like they always do
i dont want to live, dont you understand?
i'd kill myself right now if i had the guts
but one day i'll fly, far away from here
i'll be at peace when this is done
i'll be dead and gone
cant you see me on display?
hanging from my closet beam on a string made of bed sheats and tears.
that eerie creaking back and forth as i see the world fade
they'll say:
"wow, she must have been determined."
"they said she held her own feet up so they wouldnt hit the floor."
"when they found her, her toes were dangling all the way to the floor."
"how determined she must have been"
and at my funeral they tried to hide the marks that nasty bed sheet made
across my broken neck there is the lovely shade of jade and purple
"use cover up consealer that should hide the marks"
"use some new rice powder it'll cover up the scars"
why paint me up something beautiful when i did this to myself
why grieve for me now if i didnt mean a thing.
why care at all if you never did before
stop trying to clear your conscience over my cold corpse
and you just keep saying "if only we would have let her out that night"
yeah, sorry. its just that no one truly knows how i feel. i dont even know. i'm not suicidal because i'm to much of a pussy to actually go through with it. i'm not making fun of suicide. or those who have gone through with it, and those who have survived. or the family and friends of those who have had to deal with it. i'm sorry.
i love making people laugh and smile, i love smiling and getting one in return. i love to look in the eyes of someone who is laughing. i think an old couple walking around outside in the crisp evening air is the cutest thing. there is a surviving romance that follows them everywhere from when they first became lovers. i love making someones day better, even if i am having a shitty day. sometimes just talking to someone who is sitting alone, young or old, will make them feel better. to help them know that there is still some good in this world, and that good is always something worth fighting for.
this happens alot. not the whole war thing, but the feeling numb to an emotion i should be feeling at that time. i find writing a good way to push those emotions out. lol, has anyone noticed that the word emotion starts with "emo" how ironic. that trend is slightly annoying me. all trends are annoying me. i know people think i'm a hypocrite for saying that. because i "look" emo. i respect your oppinion but fuck you, you cant classify me. see in actuallity i'm nothing. i'm me. all ways have been all ways will be. i dont fit in, i dont stand out.
i'm not a depressed person by nature, but i can get that way. its not random bipolar fits of rage and then the bliss of happiness. nothing like that. i just get down sometimes. doesnt everyone? i guess its natural. i like writing. i enjoy writing lyrics to songs that will never go anywhere; then i dont have to worry if they're good, right? some i think are really good, but they're writen when i'm angry or sad so they're not really happy songs.
for instance, and i know people will think i'm crazy after i post this. this is after my parents wouldn't let me go out with my friends for the millionth time:
cant you see i'm dying?
cant you see that every "no" you give me i loose a friend
they're already gone, out having fun with out me just like they always do
i dont want to live, dont you understand?
i'd kill myself right now if i had the guts
but one day i'll fly, far away from here
i'll be at peace when this is done
i'll be dead and gone
cant you see me on display?
hanging from my closet beam on a string made of bed sheats and tears.
that eerie creaking back and forth as i see the world fade
they'll say:
"wow, she must have been determined."
"they said she held her own feet up so they wouldnt hit the floor."
"when they found her, her toes were dangling all the way to the floor."
"how determined she must have been"
and at my funeral they tried to hide the marks that nasty bed sheet made
across my broken neck there is the lovely shade of jade and purple
"use cover up consealer that should hide the marks"
"use some new rice powder it'll cover up the scars"
why paint me up something beautiful when i did this to myself
why grieve for me now if i didnt mean a thing.
why care at all if you never did before
stop trying to clear your conscience over my cold corpse
and you just keep saying "if only we would have let her out that night"
yeah, sorry. its just that no one truly knows how i feel. i dont even know. i'm not suicidal because i'm to much of a pussy to actually go through with it. i'm not making fun of suicide. or those who have gone through with it, and those who have survived. or the family and friends of those who have had to deal with it. i'm sorry.
i love making people laugh and smile, i love smiling and getting one in return. i love to look in the eyes of someone who is laughing. i think an old couple walking around outside in the crisp evening air is the cutest thing. there is a surviving romance that follows them everywhere from when they first became lovers. i love making someones day better, even if i am having a shitty day. sometimes just talking to someone who is sitting alone, young or old, will make them feel better. to help them know that there is still some good in this world, and that good is always something worth fighting for.