Well then...

It seems he's not the only one to think I pity myself. Joy.

I'm going to do something tomorrow. I don't know what yet... But I'm going to do something.

Fuck everyone.

That's how.

Meh.
I wish depression were as easy as me feeling sorry for myself.
Ugh. My family. They're such assholes.

I don't even know what to write. I just need to. Because I can't cry; not in front of her. And you're not here to talk to. I hate myself. I hate how she makes me feel. I hate how I make me feel. That bridge up the street wakes me up in the middle of the night screaming my name. That knife in the kitchen does the same.

I put a steak knife in with the butter knives. Everytime I go to grab one I close my eyes and hope it cuts me. Feeling around in the dark.

Last night I was making dinner and bacon grease popped onto my arm and into my eye. It made me feel alive. It made me want more pain. It doesn't hurt as bad as what's inside. The stuff I can't get out. The stuff I want to go away.

You know... when I left... they told me I'd go to hell. They said I'd fall slowly but there'd be no way back for me. And now... they say I should stop feeling sorry for myself and kick my depression.

How do you let go of a six year marriage that ended in your spouse choosing someone else? Six years of abuse and neglect. How?

How do you let go of a father who was never there emotionally?

How do you let go of years of molestations?

How?

How?

Death. That's how.

You

I don't know what to feel anymore... only what I do feel. Only him. Only you.

You grab my heart's attention like none other. I feel weak around you. Every thought turns to mush and my walls fall completely at your feet.

Naked.
Exposed.
Unarmored.

When you're not around... I am stricken with panic and fear. Weak. Uneasy. I want to make sure you're safe and that you know how much I love you. So... so much.

I'm getting so close to leaving. I can taste it.

------------

This morning was hell.

I couldn't sleep at all last night. Now I'm exhausted and have a house to clean. On my own. Since it's my job. I'm the fucking maid.

*sigh*

I almost grabbed the scissors and jabbed them into my chest.

But your face... your voice...they're marked on my memory and they've stained my heart... Knowing I'll be able to brush my hand across your skin... It's the only hope I have. Being with you.

So I'll be good. I'll stick around. Because I said I would. I hope you can see how much I care... even though I don't really know if it comes off that way all the time... I... try my best to be strong for you and not burden you with my problems... I know you have a lot to deal with already... You tell me time and again it's no problem... but I can damn near feel your heart sink because you can't save me from the hell I've created.

I don't want you to save me. I just want you to love me through this. We'll make it. I know we will.

The dreams... I'm worried I'll wake up screaming your name. They're so real. All I want to do is sleep. It feels so... so real. I just want to touch you and feel your skin on mine. You are mine... and I want so much to claim you for the world to see and hear and know...

The anticipation... the... dread... the fear. I can barely stand it. But in the morning it's what gets me out of bed. And it's what keeps my days from falling apart. It's what keeps my heart beating and it's what keeps me from all but disappearing.

You.

I didn't realize pastors asked for 15 year old girls to dance like strippers on church beam poles until I met you. When I refuse to dance, deny the eager few their chance. End the charade and lay the blame on me.
Push me. Pull me. See if you can fool me. Tangle me up in your rope. Make me the example as you choke on all that shit you shoved down our throats. Quietly glare as I squirm. Though, never becoming your worm, I keep my head up off the ground. I smile as your tears stream down. You can't explain why your hands are stained and my face is turning blue. I refuse to be one of you. Stare. Glare. Eat your flesh that's rare. I roll back up on my stairs and hide behind these pews. I will never be you.

Here I sit, plotting the end. Making plans in secret. Sending out cries for help. Texting friends and family members for support. And there you sit in oblivion. Smiling at me and telling me you love me. I don't know how to live with myself.

So tired. I don't want to sleep. Instead I'm stuck laying here typing this on my cell. It's the only privacy I get. I wonder what the point is. I wonder if I'm too selfish. Maybe that's why I haven't gone anywhere? I just like to make everyone think it's because I care.

But really I don't.

*sigh*

No, I really do.

I'm madly in love with... Sin~

Writey writing write~

So... I know I'm kind of slacking writing here everyday buuuut I've been doing a lot of research and writing poetry. If you'd like to see that it's all available here : http://hfeather53.deviantart.com/ .

Life is still... being figured out. I'll get back to you and let you know when I've got answers ;)

falling is easy when it's up

Wait. Wait. Wait.

For how long? Why?

I don't want to anymore.

Maybe I'm just too much?

I haven't the time that you need... or don't rather.

One day... I'll get out. You'll see.

Perfect for me.

Skin. That's all I am. To you. To her. To them. There's no reason for me here. No life beyond my skin and the thoughts contained therein. No one cares enough to give them breath. Not even me.

I'm tired of fighting with you. Tired of telling you time and again I feel like I don't matter. You won't listen. I don't matter.

I don't want to matter. Maybe then... you are perfect for me?

I'll just cut a little more. Shove myself deeper to the floor so it's easier to keep me here.

I can't fight for me. I'm too tired from fighting for everyone else.

It's too easy to believe I'm worthless. I'm worth this.

I need release.

Pointless~

I get worried that one day no one will want to hear my story. No one will care about how I feel. I write so much... because I feel so much. Being trapped, here in my head, is dizzying. I feel like an animal. I'm learning to cope and change with my surroundings. But underneath I'm still just an ape. I watch you. I do what you do. It makes you happy. When you're happy it's easier to believe that I am happy too.

Tell me how much you want me and how sorry you are it's at in inconvenient time. Tell me you love me when I ask you to touch me. Worry about the things that I swear to you are fine. Ignore the raging ravine that's forming right in front of us.

I wish I could call you my best friend.

I see how hard you try. I see how everyday is a fight for you as well. I'm sorry I can't be more help. I'm sorry you're stuck with me for now. For now.

These words. All these unspoken words. They seem pointless. And I'm scared. I'm scared they'll drift away and I'll become nothing. Because this is all I have. This is my concrete. This is my home. This is my family.

I will do my best for you. I will try to make you happy. And I'll wait. Because that's what I'm good at.

Mmm...

I don't know what to write. I'm tired. I hurt. My body aches. It slowly rips itself apart without any reason. Life is strange.

Red.

I got lost today. Inside. Deep. Rarely does this part breach the darkness. But today... *smiles*

I always felt like such an awkward girl. I hated my breasts. I hated my broad shoulders. I hated my straight hair with the natural boy part (to me it was a boy part anyway... and I spent most of my childhood fighting my hair to part down the center -.-). I wanted to run with the boys. I wanted to be strong like the boys. I wasn't one of the boys.

That's why they touched me even when I said no. Locked in that closet. In that dark garage. Back in those orchards. In my own bedroom. In that stranger's apartment. In the neighbor's backyard. In his bedroom as he drooled with a knife at my throat.

It's no wonder I didn't want them. I wanted to be invisible for so long. Even still. That's why you don't scream. Say nothing. Close your eyes it was just a dream. Unclench your tiny fists. Unhand the teddy's fur. Remember how you cried after ripping off his bow? So prestine and bright against that clean, white fur. Bright red.

You did what you were told to do. Why don't you feel like a good girl? You listened. You obeyed. You were always such a good girl. What happened?

I got sick of doing what I was told. I lived my entire life for them. Even still, a disappointment. A failure. What kind of a girl am I anyway? Loving these people I shouldn't. Because love has boundaries... right?

*sigh*

My stomach burns. My heart yearns. My head is a mess. My eyes need to rest. I just need to catch my breath and let me be me. I want to be the best me. For you.

Mundane.

My heart yearns for more. I feel so unfulfilled. I need more of you. Give me yourself. Why do you hide behind these walls? My prince, my love, my life, my everything. Try, and try again I will to be your knight. I am your heroine. I am. I need to be.

Fuel my fires. Feed my rage. My will won't succumb to weakness or exhaustion. I tary for you and you alone.

But these demons taunt me. These voices haunt me. Their talons replace my fingertips. I feel them dance along my skin. They free the hurt and pain ensepulchred in my soul. All I see is red.

My heart beats steady for you. I still wait for you. Though I may never tire of this game, love, I miss your voice, your touch. I never dare forfeit your enchantment. These scars a constant while I am but ephemeral.

I am not yet enough. Until I am by your side, I stain myself with reverence for you. I renew my vows of truth to you. I pledge myself as art for you.

I am beautiful.