Nonsense
It's kinda hard being trapped inside this box. feeling this decay spreading inside. Through every attempt in shareing these emotions, just ends up disturbing those around you, those, friends. No one wants to hear it. No one really wants to putt up with it.
It's hard not relating to anything in this life I reside in. I don't even know what's wrong with me.
Some people think it would be entertaining to be crazy. It's really not. Constantly studying those around you to decide how much you will let out, so you don't scare these, friends away.
No one wants this, no one wants to deal with being aquainted to this. People feel helpless when i let out how i really feel. They have good lifes, they are content with their surroundings, or have their own issues, I just spoil what people have going for themselves.
People always aske me what's wrong, or how i am feeling. They seem to get upset when i refuse to open up. When I do, it seems i am invadeing other's happyness. It is rather confuseing. The only person who will actualy listen to me and not get upset, is my doctor. But for some reason i cannot fully open up to him. I find it hard to. i show him things that no one knows about me. But there are alot of things i have told people that I cannot bring myself to expose to him.
I am scared in a way. i suppose i ought to be. I don't want to be in a luny bin. i can't do that. I feel that would aid in my condition, whatever that is.
Some people look at me and think I am crying out for attention, or sypmathy. I can see how certain people would feel that way, Because that is exactly how they are. People sometimes project themselves and their lifes into others.
I really don't expect anything from anyone, just respect. I am not always fortuneate to find that.
I have found myself prone to selectively picking aquaintances with rather excessive psycological issues without realizeing. I know I do this because I think they can somehow relate to how i feel inside. These disturbing images inside my head. The crave to mutalate yourself on the outside to somehow kill this monster on the inside.
suicide sounds like an easy way to end this pain no matter how much we try and deny, is always inside. What we must come to realise is that we will never be given a chance to recover from this pain if we do so. We can mend these wounds if we try, if we stay and fight. It's hard.
Demonic horror films playing the mind, scrapeing the walls of sanity. protrudeing the soul with burning steal. Playcateing the heart as a withered corpse, mangled in the mush of the earth.
words can sometimes mean so much. sometimes words are the only way to show something. sometimes they get in the way of expression, sometimes they teach a marvelous lesson.
Sometimes I don't see the point of trying to hold back, to keep these friends who wont be there for you when you snap. They wont understand, they cant understand. They have never truly been open to understand anyway. So why bother?
I would be amazed if anyone read this as far as this point, or at all for that matter. Some people think I feel sorry for myself. I don't, I just need to putt these feelings somewhere. If I can't tell them to my friends or loved ones, I need to write them. I can't curl up with them at night alone, cold in the dark, holding something I can grab in the absence of a careing being.
It's hard not knowing what you want. You kinda feel like a tornado, picking up everything in your path you come across. You get to a point where you start to feel like a gigantic magnet, where everything is being pulled to you by some unknown force you can't see or fully understand. Then you have all this in your life and begin to be pulled in differant directions.
sometimes I really don't know what i am letting out. Sometimes i am caught starring off into space, unawhere of anything going on around me. sometimes I am aware of too much happening, and for this universe of anxiety pulsateing and waiting to burst.
Well if you are reading this, I hope I have not upset you, or given you a negative outlook upon me. I am trying to let my emotion out, this is what I do here. some people think I wont let anyone help me, I'm sorry. It's hard to let people in. When I do, they end up running back to the front door.
I am sure things I write here can seem amuzeing and decisevely humerous. but, it's not. If I truly wrote in detail what is going on extensively, it is rather serious. Quite frightening really.
I struggle alot of times to bite my tounge. to not kill someone. To try to not break everything i can touch around me.
people want to know what i think and feel. Well after I beggin to torment and slice you to show you how i feel, and expose my desires what i would do, you would begg me to kill you. i will only complicate you. far worse than I already have.
Maybe I should go to an institution. Maybe i do need constant help. What if I am one of those people who has differant personalities who kills people and doesn't remember it? What if I am just in over my head in all of this babble like everyone thinks? Just a disturbing thought, one of the many in my concious.
People look at me weird as I talk to myself. As I carry on conversations speaking for both parts comeing out. or as I speak aloud to the voices in my head.
Well I think I will stop here before i say too much..
It's hard not relating to anything in this life I reside in. I don't even know what's wrong with me.
Some people think it would be entertaining to be crazy. It's really not. Constantly studying those around you to decide how much you will let out, so you don't scare these, friends away.
No one wants this, no one wants to deal with being aquainted to this. People feel helpless when i let out how i really feel. They have good lifes, they are content with their surroundings, or have their own issues, I just spoil what people have going for themselves.
People always aske me what's wrong, or how i am feeling. They seem to get upset when i refuse to open up. When I do, it seems i am invadeing other's happyness. It is rather confuseing. The only person who will actualy listen to me and not get upset, is my doctor. But for some reason i cannot fully open up to him. I find it hard to. i show him things that no one knows about me. But there are alot of things i have told people that I cannot bring myself to expose to him.
I am scared in a way. i suppose i ought to be. I don't want to be in a luny bin. i can't do that. I feel that would aid in my condition, whatever that is.
Some people look at me and think I am crying out for attention, or sypmathy. I can see how certain people would feel that way, Because that is exactly how they are. People sometimes project themselves and their lifes into others.
I really don't expect anything from anyone, just respect. I am not always fortuneate to find that.
I have found myself prone to selectively picking aquaintances with rather excessive psycological issues without realizeing. I know I do this because I think they can somehow relate to how i feel inside. These disturbing images inside my head. The crave to mutalate yourself on the outside to somehow kill this monster on the inside.
suicide sounds like an easy way to end this pain no matter how much we try and deny, is always inside. What we must come to realise is that we will never be given a chance to recover from this pain if we do so. We can mend these wounds if we try, if we stay and fight. It's hard.
Demonic horror films playing the mind, scrapeing the walls of sanity. protrudeing the soul with burning steal. Playcateing the heart as a withered corpse, mangled in the mush of the earth.
words can sometimes mean so much. sometimes words are the only way to show something. sometimes they get in the way of expression, sometimes they teach a marvelous lesson.
Sometimes I don't see the point of trying to hold back, to keep these friends who wont be there for you when you snap. They wont understand, they cant understand. They have never truly been open to understand anyway. So why bother?
I would be amazed if anyone read this as far as this point, or at all for that matter. Some people think I feel sorry for myself. I don't, I just need to putt these feelings somewhere. If I can't tell them to my friends or loved ones, I need to write them. I can't curl up with them at night alone, cold in the dark, holding something I can grab in the absence of a careing being.
It's hard not knowing what you want. You kinda feel like a tornado, picking up everything in your path you come across. You get to a point where you start to feel like a gigantic magnet, where everything is being pulled to you by some unknown force you can't see or fully understand. Then you have all this in your life and begin to be pulled in differant directions.
sometimes I really don't know what i am letting out. Sometimes i am caught starring off into space, unawhere of anything going on around me. sometimes I am aware of too much happening, and for this universe of anxiety pulsateing and waiting to burst.
Well if you are reading this, I hope I have not upset you, or given you a negative outlook upon me. I am trying to let my emotion out, this is what I do here. some people think I wont let anyone help me, I'm sorry. It's hard to let people in. When I do, they end up running back to the front door.
I am sure things I write here can seem amuzeing and decisevely humerous. but, it's not. If I truly wrote in detail what is going on extensively, it is rather serious. Quite frightening really.
I struggle alot of times to bite my tounge. to not kill someone. To try to not break everything i can touch around me.
people want to know what i think and feel. Well after I beggin to torment and slice you to show you how i feel, and expose my desires what i would do, you would begg me to kill you. i will only complicate you. far worse than I already have.
Maybe I should go to an institution. Maybe i do need constant help. What if I am one of those people who has differant personalities who kills people and doesn't remember it? What if I am just in over my head in all of this babble like everyone thinks? Just a disturbing thought, one of the many in my concious.
People look at me weird as I talk to myself. As I carry on conversations speaking for both parts comeing out. or as I speak aloud to the voices in my head.
Well I think I will stop here before i say too much..