How I live
January 21, 2002 @ 3:28 p.m.
I lied. I'm not feeling better. I'm feeling worse, every time I know he ignores me for a reason.
I need to get over myself, I really do.
Ugh, this feeling disgusts me. I hadn't missed it. I hadn't felt it in a while.
Damn, what made it come back?
You know, if you really don't want to talk to me anymore, why don't you just tell me instead of ignoring me?
I'm fucking paranoid.
I need a hobby. I do. Decophage or something.
If I told you how I really feel, I'd have dozens of vultures swarming me, asking if I was all right.
That's not what I need.
I don't need someone to bandage my wrists for me. I need someone to cut them.
I need someone to save me, but I also need someone to let me scream.
People instead insist on the swarming, on the staring. I think I put it best in one of my poems:
"It's like I'm drowning, and people are asking me if I'm okay. Do I look okay? I'm drowning, for Christ's sake."
So don't ask me if I'm okay. It means a lot that you pity me, if pity can be constructive.
Otherwise, don't worry about it.
This battle is a battle of wit between me and the being I see as the devil. This devil is not wholly fair, but what devil do you know is?
But we duel anyway.
He tells me to do it, to slit those wrists.
I tell him I don't want to.
He calls me a liar.
And this is how I live.
He's quieter on most days, just a little whispering in the back of my head, egging me on.
These days he's shouting in my ear. Taunting me. Begging me.
It has never looked so inviting.
And this is how I live.
<< | >>
- - March 22, 2010
always the same - July 01, 2008
b-a-n-a-n-a-s! - December 25, 2006
elementary again - October 29, 2006
I don't like you, but I love you - October 03, 2006