to advance, or not to advance, i hear you laughing
badly. i do NOT want to be fucking alone right now. unfortunately, god
hasn't blessed me with a choice. read these words closely: i don't
want to die, but i don't want to live.
i'm tired. i'm so tired. what is my reason for waking up every
morning? other than the fact that it naturally comes to me by being
on autopilot.
(...)
being sick does not help my depression. my depression does not help my sickness. either way, it's counterproductive and i'm left with a
stuffy head, sore throat and watery, bloodshot eyes.
oh yes, i'm such a beauty.
there's so much that i need - that i can't articulate. and besides,
it's not my place to ask. i'm at the mercy of the forces that guide my
life. if there are any such things.
am i supposed to find comfort in this blue november sky morning? because i don't. hatfield was the first time i was left to stand on my own.
and i fell over and sprained my ankle.
maybe happiness and safety are mutually exclusive. maybe they're oil
and water. i could've had the safety - a few times. but i wasn't happy. when i'm happy, though, i'm not safe. the snatching hands of fate, well, they're determined to steal the happiness away from me. always have, always will.
i'm always planning. charts and graphs. but i'm planning for invisible
futures. planning with hope; not with a firm foundation. i'm burning bridges and counting chickens, if you catch my drift.
i'm not one to push my thoughts or desires on anyone. i make others'
dreams my dreams too. when i was given the notion of what could be in
my pocket come christmastime, i laughed. if the familiar can't solve
problems or grant wishes, how am i supposed to believe that the
unfamiliar will?
as much as i'd like to believe in my pre-sleep dreams, i know better than to do that.
it makes me want to slice myself apart, to know that there's no
threat. just more evidence as to what i lack. if there was flesh and
bone, maybe it'd be different. but i only have words without a voice. and that just isn't enough to prove my
worth. no one's world would crumble without me. here today, gone
tomorrow. and everyone would just wonder what they should have for
dinner.
i can't make anything glow or be beautiful. i burn away into ash,
blowing out the window.
does anyone other than me know how it feels to be a postscript? a faint nudge at the end of the day? which could be ignored, easily, but will probably be acknowledged, at some point, out of guilt.
with that snap, that click, the tears poured out of me. maybe i've run out of words that would hold anyone's attention.
there are millions of beautiful blondes and redheads and even
brunettes. i'm mousy and nondescript, like death.
i have no one here to look after me. no one to worry. ha. as if worry
was ever an option. point being -- tuesday's never too early to start
the week's destruction.
ask, and i'd reply. but there are no more questions.
notice that i never said: "follow me"
posted by: less-than3
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