What the fuck...

What's this excitement in my chest? Why am I so giddy? Over remarks about my writing? People like it? What? They think I'm good? But they're so much better than I am....

I'm good at something I actually enjoy?... Wow...

My pictures suck... Maybe in time?... My poetry sucked when I was younger too... Lol... Stupid wannabe lyricist. I was such an odd job kid.

So I was reading these forums today... and I was amazed to find that regardless of gender... people all over have the same issues as I do. They think they're ugly or undeserving of compliments... Granted one could say they have more of a reason to feel that way... But nonetheless... We feel the same.

It's nice to feel connected to people... or that people understand how I feel... Even if they aren't writing about me or speaking directly to me... Their words and feelings are my words and feelings so I know... They understand.

Oh, and one more thing... To my best friend, you know who you are... You inspire me with all of your courage. I love that I can talk to you about anything. My heart wants only good things for you and to protect you from every bad thing the world has tried to spew at you. My long lost sister. I love you so much. You complete me in a way no one else has before. <3

Prey~

Learning to let go of people is difficult. Learning that everyone has a different definition of love is difficult. I can't trust myself. I can't trust anyone else. But I do....

I melt at their words. I call to their bestial senses. I am the forbidden prey. Even still, they chase. And I give way.

In my prime, I prowl. Mistress of the game. I have yet to be tamed. Locked in my cage, gnawing at the lock, I howl a lonesome cry. Gallantly, heroically they beckon to my shrills.

When all I want is to be free.

I swear to god... I'm going to make the pain stop one way or another.

Deeper still~

A day like any other... You hate yourself. What else is new? At this point I would be surprised if anyone continued to read this... this... I don't even know what to call it.... A journal on the road to discovery of just how badly you hate yourself? Your writing is a joke.

All you want to write about is pain and self loathing. Aren't there other things to write about? Prettier things? Things you enjoy?... Ah, yes, those are the things that end up letting you down in the end and making you hate yourself... again.

I don't know that it's technically right to say "again" in your particular circumstance. Do you ever really stop hating yourself to begin with? I don't think you do. Deep down in the core of who you are... you hate yourself through and through. We can only remember one time where you were able to say you were happy with yourself. Do you remember why you said that? You felt like you were on top of the world. You were exercising daily... You were going to school. Your family was behind you and supporting 100%. What happened?

Oh... that's right... you fucked it all up.
*taps forehead*
Do you ever think before you do the things you do?

You truly, truly disgust me.

Keep travelling down babe... deeper still. We'll find the end of this rabbit hole some day.

I still hate myself.

So sick and tired of the back and forth. I love you. I hate you. You're beautiful. You're hideous. You're elegant. You're manly. You're sexy. You're fat. You're loved. You're loathed.

*pulls hair*

It's so frustrating to be stuck in my head. How quickly my moods turn. How fast I go from perfectly wonderful to insanely dreadful. I only weigh heavy on the backs of others. I should just leave everyone alone.

I wish I could hide in the light of day like I used to. Back before people started sticking their noses into my business and claiming they could fix me. Maybe then all this shit would've remained buried beneath the surface. But it didn't. They've unsurfaced it. They dug it up. And now I sit and let it eat my flesh. Rot my core. Overtake me. Completely.

There is no hope for people like me. Only glimpses of what life could be like if we weren't so fucked up.

I don't understand these times when my heart aches. It feels like a knife has plunged deep into my chest. My lungs ache for air as their pace quickens at it's shallow, uncontrolled rate. Greedily my fists clench digging my nails into my palms thirsting for a taste of relief. Comfort. Blood. I need it to spill freely and release me from my bondage. I need release.

Vicious circles.

You were my shoulder to lean on for so long. You said you'd always be there. And you're not now. You said it hurt you that I lied. Given the way you reacted, can you blame me for being hesitant? I realize you wanted me to be open and honest with every aspect of my life... But you see what happens when I open up? You see what happens? People leave me. You left me. You betrayed me. After all those promises. After everything I shared with you... Only to be outed and banished. That hurts more than you'll ever understand. The pain my heart feels... I believed you.

Maybe it's my fault for being naive. I tend to believe others easily. Maybe it's all my fault. All the pain, all the betrayals... Maybe I should close myself off.

*sigh*

I need the interactions. I need the approval. I need the touch of others. And because I need I hate myself.

Vicious cycles. Neverending circles of mistrust and hurt and abuse. I need someone to keep me safe from the rest. So I'll wait for someone that will hold true to their words. How long will I wait? Will I destroy myself before you've reached me? Am I already too far gone?


 



Revolt.

I am not a breeder. My body revolts against traditions. My mind revolts against my body. My body revolts against my mind. My mind wants to not want. My body wants, needs, craves.

I am just a toy. Full of desire and drive with no function other than to fulfill. I don't want to need any more than you want me to. Dress me up as you fancy. Play with me then put me away for a rainy day. I'll do as you wish. Desires, lusts, diseases on my dish.

Of course I'm ok. I don't know why you ask. I'm just the way I was made to be.

Mess~

Tear me open. Expose me to the world for what I really am. A devil hiding behind this angel face. Such a horrid, filthy mess.

We know what we think and feel... The world watches on thinking we're quiet and helpless. We know how to use people. We know how to get what we want. Good girls don't know how to be so bad, do they?

We know just how dark the recesses of her mind are. We know just how deeply removed from the light she is. We know how much she detests the attempts to save her, as though she is helpless. She is stronger than she'll ever show.

With all of you fooled she prances on in her dance of depression and self hatred; knowing that her solace, her home, her haven, is here. We know how safe she is from the rest of the world in here, with us, so go away. Let her destroy herself and finish what the world failed so many years ago.

Her scars are penance. Her tears are deserved. What is life without pain other than a bore~

Hope.

Not quite sure why... But I am still here. Maybe because I don't fit in anywhere else? Maybe because I've lost hope in humanity as a whole and don't want to take any more risks? *shrugs*

I wish that memory erasing service that was offered in Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind was something real...

I want to be able to hope again. To dream again. To believe again. To love again.

I want to believe when I'm told you aren't tired of me and you want to help me... But that face... Your sweet innocent face... How could you even bear to look at me after I said the things I said? I hate myself. But I hate you more than I hate me...

Maybe there is a little hope?

Descent.

Watch me disappear slowly. Fade into nothing. I give up on happiness or dreams of romance. I give up on the silly notions that one day someone can love me as much as I love in return. It's fine, don't trust me. I don't care anymore. I should warn you, I also don't care if you say no~

Fight, kick, scream, cry all you want, it won't change a thing. I'm going to do what I want to do. I'm tired of being a pawn or lackey or fly girl to someone else's main attraction. I am not your toy, your doll, your slave, or child. You don't make the rules, and even if you did, I sure as hell wouldn't follow them.

Fuck all of this. You know?

Life is so fucked up. I see I was wrong to believe I could ever get what I wanted. At least I know I'm not worth it. Maybe not to you anyway. But to someone. Truth be told I wanted it to be you.

With no one left to catch me when I fall... I wonder what depths I'll reach in my descent. I'm already unreachable, already tainted. Just not by you.

Famous last words~

I regret having a heart that trusts too easily, believes fully, and falls eagerly.

That is the last thing Heather ever spoke. I will not let her out again. She is too weak. Too frail. She needs a rock and I will now be that rock for her. Fuck this being weak pansy shit. Heather is a dumb, cunt, whore stuck in a horrid cycle of abusive relationships and as such will be treated according to how I see fit. She is worthless because she feels worthless.

Time to show her how big girls play.

*wink, wink*

Caged bird~

I didn't want this to become about you. About the things you say and do. I wanted it to be about me. About my feelings and thoughts. But there are days such as today, I can't get you out of my head.

I feel... destroyed. Crushed. Scared. Small. Insignificant. Worthless. Secondary. Angry. Bitter. Conflicted. Betrayed. Untrusted. Vengeful.

Somedays I want to throw it all away. Say, "Fuck you," and take back everything you took from me. I don't care even if I did give it away willingly. You stole it by not giving me something just as valuable in return.

Let's pretend I'm brave enough. Let's pretend you're strong enough. Let's pretend you and I could even last long enough for me to finish this post... If you knew the thoughts in my head... If you could see the places others dread... You and I would be dead<3

Baby, I love you, you know that I do... Why do you have to be so cruel... Tell me you love me I need your love in my veins... Tell me you want me; keep me here; keep me sane.

Ugh. I don't think your capable of keeping yourself sane, let alone me. You do have your days. Where I am at my low and you pretend to be able to cope. You play the pretend game too? We both know you're not capable... Not any more than I.

When I tell you how you make me feel... And you tell me how I make you feel without even flinching at my words except in hurt and defeat... It's those times I know... My fighting is worthless. My feelings are worthless. And I truly am secondary.

You make me feel voiceless. What good is it to keep a caged bird who's too afraid to sing?

What am I?

Rape victim. Suicide attempt survivor. Crazy. Emotionally unstable. Cutter. Overweight. Going gray. Bisexual. Sinner. Misunderstood. Alone. Unlovable. Diseased. Worthless. Unemployed. Uneducated. Dreamer. Arthritic. Shitty writer. Shitty singer. Disappointment. Faithless. Hopeless. Trapped. Afraid. Escapist. Gamer. Irritable. Fuck up.

Oh voices of never shifting doubt. Why am I so in need of a rock? Little barnacle with no rock to cleave to. I float along endlessly and aimlessly in my polluted, convoluted mind.

*sigh*

Today is a down day so far. I keep running into things and people that make me feel regret for my decisions.

I hate hives. I hate how I get stressed and get them all over my body. As if it's not enough I'm already a self destructive individual... Yes body, give me a reason to drag my nails over your pale skin that turns pink so easily. I enjoy the welts. I like the way it burns when I clean it with alcohol or peroxide. Most of all I enjoy the blood.

I have days that I fantasize about being beat up. Punched. Kicked. Treated like trash. I have days I want to be hated. I just don't understand why. But I'm too scared to analyze those thoughts. It's too much fun to wade around in them. The thoughts give me chills and are somehow relaxing. It's kind of... Euphoric.

They say I'm not crazy... what am I?

Unconditional

I spend most of my time alone. I sit and stare out of the window and beyond the iron gate at the cars driving down the busy street. The lull of the traffic is comforting now. It makes me feel less alone. I know people are just beyond the glass. I doubt many of them could relate to such a sad pathetic excuse for a human being. So I guess if I think too hard about it... I still feel alone. Even when I'm surrounded.

I wake sometimes in the middle of the night in tears with heaviness gripping my heart. It's the worst feeling. The feeling of loss. My heart grieves for reasons I don't understand. Maybe it knows something I don't? Such a painful thing... to want to save the world and know that you cannot.

If I could make one person happy... If I could lavish one person in love and let them know I will love them regardless of transgressions... I used to believe that could change a person. I used to believe that's all any relationship needed. Love is, afterall, unconditional... Right?

That's what I was taught... Love is unending, and a promise should last a lifetime. Not everyone feels the same. To think something as petty as a dirty kitchen could make someone fall out of love. I'm close to my edge.

I don't know how much more pain my heart can take. I don't understand how anyone could look at me and call me strong. How is such a blubbering, self loathing fool considered strong?

I used to think I was destined for great things. I used to think I could make a difference in peoples' lives. Now I sit and wait for someone to make a difference in mine. What a cruel joke.

I don't want to play my mistress' games any longer. I've grown tired of her deceit. My heart is slinking back in fear and closing itself off from the world. Maybe it's a good thing. I can't save anyone. I can't even save myself.

Patience is a virtue.

If I could silence the voices in my head long enough I might be able to focus. The ones that tell me he doesn't love me. The ones that tell me I'm worthless. The ones that remind me of my failures. How do other people ignore them? Or do other people even have them?

Still, small, quiet voices that rape my thoughts in the middle of the night. Their tiny hands grip my heart and squeeze until it feels as though it's going to burst in my chest.

I was taught that faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen. Can hope and faith be depleted? It feels like it's been robbed from my soul. I want so much to trust and believe like I did not so long ago... But people... People aren't as kind as I'd hope them to be when I place my heart in their hands.

Now barricaded behind walls of doubt my heart waits patiently for one worthy enough to rescue her from her tower of fear. Smile and wave from your balcony dear. Ready your makeup and mask for the public. Convince yourself that everything is ok for now. No need to fret until the last man we will ever love is standing in our doorway. Just wait. Sleep for now.

A hero...

steal these thoughts in my head
take this life be my death
kill my wishes my will
give me your cup to fill
take from my soul what you need
satisfy my empty greed
i'm done fighting if you please
i'll gladly stay on my knees
i'll fulfill your every desire
if you make me forget all those fires
angel be my devil nigh
give me mercy's blissful sigh
grant my freedom from this cell
play my rhythms you know so well
save me from myself



Conflicted emotions seems to be an on going theme through out my life. One day I hate myself the next I love myself then I go back to the hate. The hate. So much hate. I don't understand how anyone can look at me and see anything but a waste of potential. Or maybe that is what they see? And maybe it is the human condition to want to live your wasted dreams and aspirations out through others who may share similar dreams but seem to be in a rut? Maybe that's why so many people try to pull me from my wasteland.

I'd be willing to try one last time. Thing is I tend to disappoint people. I need someone who's willing to accept the fact that I might hate myself for the rest of my life.

I'm so tired of people telling me to fight. As though I don't already? You may see the word "whore" carved on my arm as a sign that I failed to keep my control of my emotions one day. I see it and smile because I kept the knife from slitting my throat or plunging itself greedily into my chest. I guess I've always been a morbid kind of optimist though.

One day I might change. One day I might be comfortable enough to believe. One day I might feel safe enough to trust. One day I might even stop cutting. I need someone who doesn't afraid of my thoughts. I need someone who can be brave enough with me to wade through the muddy waters of my doubts and fears.

I can't imagine anyone to love me that much.