>secrets
when the tears
come streaming down my face
when i lose something
i can't replace
when i love someone
but it goes to waste
could it be worse
lights will guide me home
and ignite my bones
please, try to fix me
and I just realized something. a year, and 2.5 days ago... everything came crashing down. it was when two people (actually, just one, as I have come to figure out) decided to go do something incredibly stupid and make a dent in my entire existance. they spoke, exagerating greatly and bringing out things that were so violently irrelevant. and nothing has been the same since. first there was a therapy, the constant complaining from my mother, the worrying, becky's tears, the meds, the alcohol, the near death moments, all the bleeding, the emptiness. and everything else.
and yet i still don't know why.
I try to see it from her point of view but god. if she was worried she should've checked her facts first. I still don't even know EVERYTHING that was said because everyone has refused to answer my questions. (except one person, who I thank for that.) I want to forget it somehow but how can you forget it when someone does that to you? the moments sitting in that dim room with my father, waiting for Becky, not speaking. so much worse than most moments in my life. and then Becky got there and she cried. I made her cry. no. not me. the other person made her cry. if everything hadn't been spilled, none of it would've happened.
the oddest part of all of it: after the reveal and after the therapy (or lack there of), everything got so much worse. like it all being out in the open kicked me off of the cliff. no. that's my fault, that was all my doing. had I not fucking gone home, it wouldn't have been so bad. I wouldn't have had to deal with my mother and then school and everything. I still don't know why I did it. so suddenly did I make that decision. I had it all planned out to stay. everything. and then that morning, 3 AM. I decided and I went home.
and then portland tried to kill me.
I have felt so weird lately. more self loathing than normal. but not what I was used to. it's been so much worse. I hate it but I can't make it go away. the seconds scratch by with the voice screaming inside my head that I'm so worthless. and it's so hard not to believe the voice. I wish I could make it go away but there is nothing that will make it stop, nothing that I can find. I don't even know what it is. I just wish it would go away.
I need to go. I haven't been writing like I'm supposed to. I don't do anything all damn day, I should write. and yet I haven't. so that's where I'm going.
come streaming down my face
when i lose something
i can't replace
when i love someone
but it goes to waste
could it be worse
lights will guide me home
and ignite my bones
please, try to fix me
and I just realized something. a year, and 2.5 days ago... everything came crashing down. it was when two people (actually, just one, as I have come to figure out) decided to go do something incredibly stupid and make a dent in my entire existance. they spoke, exagerating greatly and bringing out things that were so violently irrelevant. and nothing has been the same since. first there was a therapy, the constant complaining from my mother, the worrying, becky's tears, the meds, the alcohol, the near death moments, all the bleeding, the emptiness. and everything else.
and yet i still don't know why.
I try to see it from her point of view but god. if she was worried she should've checked her facts first. I still don't even know EVERYTHING that was said because everyone has refused to answer my questions. (except one person, who I thank for that.) I want to forget it somehow but how can you forget it when someone does that to you? the moments sitting in that dim room with my father, waiting for Becky, not speaking. so much worse than most moments in my life. and then Becky got there and she cried. I made her cry. no. not me. the other person made her cry. if everything hadn't been spilled, none of it would've happened.
the oddest part of all of it: after the reveal and after the therapy (or lack there of), everything got so much worse. like it all being out in the open kicked me off of the cliff. no. that's my fault, that was all my doing. had I not fucking gone home, it wouldn't have been so bad. I wouldn't have had to deal with my mother and then school and everything. I still don't know why I did it. so suddenly did I make that decision. I had it all planned out to stay. everything. and then that morning, 3 AM. I decided and I went home.
and then portland tried to kill me.
I have felt so weird lately. more self loathing than normal. but not what I was used to. it's been so much worse. I hate it but I can't make it go away. the seconds scratch by with the voice screaming inside my head that I'm so worthless. and it's so hard not to believe the voice. I wish I could make it go away but there is nothing that will make it stop, nothing that I can find. I don't even know what it is. I just wish it would go away.
I need to go. I haven't been writing like I'm supposed to. I don't do anything all damn day, I should write. and yet I haven't. so that's where I'm going.