Dry your eyes, dont let them see you cry
drown it out with a bottle
drown yourself in it, sink in to your own misery
everything else that I own is just a shitty piece of art
nobody's staying...i dont know if i want anyone to
Tuesday, March 27, 2012
Im so fucking stupid.
I dont even know what I want.
Everyone should just leave me.
It would be best really.
Really?
...trying to find that answer.
What am I doing here?
What am I doing with my life?
I don't know what I want, and that's as fucking honest as I can get.
No idea what I want to do with my life.
No idea... about anything.
I dont even know what I want.
Everyone should just leave me.
It would be best really.
Really?
...trying to find that answer.
What am I doing here?
What am I doing with my life?
I don't know what I want, and that's as fucking honest as I can get.
No idea what I want to do with my life.
No idea... about anything.
Resisting every urge to kill myself tonight. This shit sucks. I suck.
Im a pretty fucking horrible person, it's awful. I see it in everything that I do, and Im trying but I guess I'll always be a wretched human being. I fucking hate myself.
Im sorry. Honestly, from the bottom of my heart, for everything that I have done that has ruined something for everyone else. I have this habit, you see, of screwing things up for everyone; I don't even mean to. Hell, I try not to.
It sucks, it fucking sucks.
I hate being me, I hate the life that I'm living now and I hate everything about myself.
Looks like this is gonna be another sleepless night.
Im a pretty fucking horrible person, it's awful. I see it in everything that I do, and Im trying but I guess I'll always be a wretched human being. I fucking hate myself.
Im sorry. Honestly, from the bottom of my heart, for everything that I have done that has ruined something for everyone else. I have this habit, you see, of screwing things up for everyone; I don't even mean to. Hell, I try not to.
It sucks, it fucking sucks.
I hate being me, I hate the life that I'm living now and I hate everything about myself.
Looks like this is gonna be another sleepless night.
Sunday, March 25, 2012
Theres a boy up there with sunken red eyes in a hollow face, skin stretched across bone, and all of his clothes
hanging off of his limbs like misshapen hangers in an empty closet. Ill-fitting.
He sits on the street corner with a blanket over the holes in his pants and his fingertips creep out from under the blanket just to pull it higher. The gloves with no fingers.
And then in minutes the wind picks up
and the rain comes down and its almost below zero
but he stays the night and watches the sky as it changes colours in the light of the night and
hanging off of his limbs like misshapen hangers in an empty closet. Ill-fitting.
He sits on the street corner with a blanket over the holes in his pants and his fingertips creep out from under the blanket just to pull it higher. The gloves with no fingers.
And then in minutes the wind picks up
and the rain comes down and its almost below zero
but he stays the night and watches the sky as it changes colours in the light of the night and
Thursday, March 22, 2012
Three days ago we talked for hours and days before,. we talked all night. I really miss you bro, everything we talked about... and you were always there for me; obviously I didn't do enough for you.
I still can't believe it, I think I block it out mostly. You're still around, you'll be back soon, you'll talk to me again tonight, we'll sit drinking together again... its actually painful when I realise you are never ever coming back for the rest of my entire life; ever. That it's the end, really the end, of your life.
I guess I never gave it much of a thought; dying. Living, yes; and what I thought was death was really just the opposite of life. There's no way to see all of the people devastated by the fact that youre gone... you just left your sadness here with us, I guess.
I would like to think that you're looking down on me. That when I sit and I talk, that you can hear me. Or at least understand that I'm sorry, if I could turn back time I would change everything and hopefully it would be enough.
I know nothing I could have said would have stopped you. But Im still caught in the tangles of all the things I never said, all the things I'll never say.
People that used to laugh at you don't laugh anymore. The sad bit? They don't remember.
People you never knew say that they miss you. They use the fact that we have all lost you as a way to get sympathy and it just fucking makes my blood boil. They never fucking spoke to you. They aren't missing you every fucking day, every single fucking day. They're using you... even now. You should fucking see them...
guess you can't.
I'm planning on getting a tattoo soon, in memory of you.
I had a job for a while, but I lost it. I wish I could talk to you about it all, there's just... so much going on at the moment.
I miss you. I miss you a fucking lot, every day. And every night I feel the emptiness, the space where you used to be, the hours that you would fill up the night talking with me.
There's no point to this. There's no real point to anything. I just wish I could talk to you, even though I would hardly know what to say. Im lost for words even now, although I can feel that lump rising in my throat which is either words or tears and Im not sure which.
I could write for hours, but what good would that do?
Oh and that lump in my throat was tears.
I still can't believe it, I think I block it out mostly. You're still around, you'll be back soon, you'll talk to me again tonight, we'll sit drinking together again... its actually painful when I realise you are never ever coming back for the rest of my entire life; ever. That it's the end, really the end, of your life.
I guess I never gave it much of a thought; dying. Living, yes; and what I thought was death was really just the opposite of life. There's no way to see all of the people devastated by the fact that youre gone... you just left your sadness here with us, I guess.
I would like to think that you're looking down on me. That when I sit and I talk, that you can hear me. Or at least understand that I'm sorry, if I could turn back time I would change everything and hopefully it would be enough.
I know nothing I could have said would have stopped you. But Im still caught in the tangles of all the things I never said, all the things I'll never say.
People that used to laugh at you don't laugh anymore. The sad bit? They don't remember.
People you never knew say that they miss you. They use the fact that we have all lost you as a way to get sympathy and it just fucking makes my blood boil. They never fucking spoke to you. They aren't missing you every fucking day, every single fucking day. They're using you... even now. You should fucking see them...
guess you can't.
I'm planning on getting a tattoo soon, in memory of you.
I had a job for a while, but I lost it. I wish I could talk to you about it all, there's just... so much going on at the moment.
I miss you. I miss you a fucking lot, every day. And every night I feel the emptiness, the space where you used to be, the hours that you would fill up the night talking with me.
There's no point to this. There's no real point to anything. I just wish I could talk to you, even though I would hardly know what to say. Im lost for words even now, although I can feel that lump rising in my throat which is either words or tears and Im not sure which.
I could write for hours, but what good would that do?
Oh and that lump in my throat was tears.
Blank spaces. Blank moments. Hours, days.
What's happened while I was gone? ...something's changed and I'm ... confused.
Im scared. What do I do? What did I do?
Forgiveness isn't tossed around an awful lot anymore, I guess I ran out of chances while I was running through the past.
We're all running from something. Im running from myself, and I don't think I'll ever get away.
Something's happened...?
What's happened while I was gone? ...something's changed and I'm ... confused.
Im scared. What do I do? What did I do?
Forgiveness isn't tossed around an awful lot anymore, I guess I ran out of chances while I was running through the past.
We're all running from something. Im running from myself, and I don't think I'll ever get away.
Something's happened...?
Wednesday, March 21, 2012
Wednesday, March 14, 2012
Tuesday, March 13, 2012
I miss you and all the things you left out
its quiet and it eats away like an acid
like the ghost of yesterday, something you were so afraid of
and the shadow of tomorrow disappeared in the light but
you left us all behind
theres no postcards or letters of books or phonecalls or talking
there is nothing
just an empty gap inside us when you sunk below the surface
it wasnt slowly removed, but pulled out from under our feet like a rug
lost our footing on the top stair
all of us trying to will it to just be that moment when you expect a stair to be there so you take another step
and the fleeting, falling ice inside when you feel as if you are falling
but rest firmly on the ground, having reached the top of the staircase.
This is like trying to wrap a house in string, Im missing pieces, Im leaving gaps
things dont quite fit in together and theres odd shapes that should be there but I can't quite name them
Im not sure I can even see them
although there are some things you cannot see but you know are there
like your body in a box, below the surface of the grass... we know that is real
you are not a body; you are a soul, you have a body
so where did you go?
its quiet and it eats away like an acid
like the ghost of yesterday, something you were so afraid of
and the shadow of tomorrow disappeared in the light but
you left us all behind
theres no postcards or letters of books or phonecalls or talking
there is nothing
just an empty gap inside us when you sunk below the surface
it wasnt slowly removed, but pulled out from under our feet like a rug
lost our footing on the top stair
all of us trying to will it to just be that moment when you expect a stair to be there so you take another step
and the fleeting, falling ice inside when you feel as if you are falling
but rest firmly on the ground, having reached the top of the staircase.
This is like trying to wrap a house in string, Im missing pieces, Im leaving gaps
things dont quite fit in together and theres odd shapes that should be there but I can't quite name them
Im not sure I can even see them
although there are some things you cannot see but you know are there
like your body in a box, below the surface of the grass... we know that is real
you are not a body; you are a soul, you have a body
so where did you go?
Open, close
see the light and turn around, please don't break
not just yet because there are too many things that I have left
left unsaid
when I used to breathe the air before I realised there was a limit
a stop in time, a break in the wavelength... a flatline
and I guess you never got close enough for that final beep cause yours
it was silent, you slipped away in an instant
quietly, desperately, hopelessly
I see it all play out and I feel it all string out all of the bones in my body,
and play them like sick drums, with knives
what did you think you would find? I think I could ask that
to anyone and to everyone who breathed the same air and felt
that sudden stop and then the breaks and the jarring and the solid walls that fall away in places
that emptiness you hold yourself up on
see the light and turn around, please don't break
not just yet because there are too many things that I have left
left unsaid
when I used to breathe the air before I realised there was a limit
a stop in time, a break in the wavelength... a flatline
and I guess you never got close enough for that final beep cause yours
it was silent, you slipped away in an instant
quietly, desperately, hopelessly
I see it all play out and I feel it all string out all of the bones in my body,
and play them like sick drums, with knives
what did you think you would find? I think I could ask that
to anyone and to everyone who breathed the same air and felt
that sudden stop and then the breaks and the jarring and the solid walls that fall away in places
that emptiness you hold yourself up on
Monday, March 12, 2012
I don't know how I am supposed to get to work every morning when it's hard to get out of bed. It's hard to get dressed. It's hard to do my hair. It's hard to catch the bus. I'm not tired, I'm exhausted. Of everything. Depression is physically crippling. I don't know how long I can do this, how long I can play this game; pretending that I am okay. As embarrassing and disgusting as it is, my drive is for the money. I need it to pay back debts and buy alcohol to drown in, so I can pretend to myself for a while... so I can escape. I'm trying. I'm trying so fucking hard, but there's no gaps, no breaks, no time for me to just sit and grieve and let everything wash over me, so it all just hits me at the end of the day. It hurts. Everything hurts. And I know that when I crash and burn that it will be spectacular.
I don't know how I am supposed to get to work every morning when it's hard to get out of bed. It's hard to get dressed. It's hard to do my hair. It's hard to catch the bus. I'm not tired, I'm exhausted. Of everything. Depression is physically crippling. I don't know how long I can do this, how long I can play this game; pretending that I am okay. As embarrassing and disgusting as it is, my drive is for the money. I need it to pay back debts and buy alcohol to drown in, so I can pretend to myself for a while... so I can escape. I'm trying. I'm trying so fucking hard, but there's no gaps, no breaks, no time for me to just sit and grieve and let everything wash over me, so it all just hits me at the end of the day. It hurts. Everything hurts. And I know that when I crash and burn that it will be spectacular.
Friday, March 9, 2012
Monday, March 5, 2012
How do you feel when you can't sleep at night?
when your thoughts keep you awake, and alone, you lie and stare at the ceiling for hours
theres a bit of the paint in the corner of the room that's peeling, theres posters with corners falling off the wall
and somewhere in the darkness you know that theres a table with a razor without a blade
and the blade is in your hand and your blood is on the sheets
clench your fist to hide the shame and burn yourself against the grain
as you're trying to find the words to say, 'no;
'Im not okay,' but instead you stutter, and youve lost that word that will almost explain it,
an empty space
the sudden absence of a word leaving
a gap
like the gap in your flesh where the blade has been
when your thoughts keep you awake, and alone, you lie and stare at the ceiling for hours
theres a bit of the paint in the corner of the room that's peeling, theres posters with corners falling off the wall
and somewhere in the darkness you know that theres a table with a razor without a blade
and the blade is in your hand and your blood is on the sheets
clench your fist to hide the shame and burn yourself against the grain
as you're trying to find the words to say, 'no;
'Im not okay,' but instead you stutter, and youve lost that word that will almost explain it,
an empty space
the sudden absence of a word leaving
a gap
like the gap in your flesh where the blade has been
Sunday, March 4, 2012
Saturday, March 3, 2012
Peel away your skin, press your broken hands against your bones; breathe in the blood that keeps you here. Open, close; repeat. Breathe: inhale, exhale...
Cut. Carve, peel. Remove? Empty. Search; ...seeking.
Lost with no direction, alone... ultimately waiting to die (again, alone); wanting to...
the balancing act between the two sides, the empty void being the piece that will crumble... to create something that will last when everything is gone.
Nothing lasts forever.
Cut. Carve, peel. Remove? Empty. Search; ...seeking.
Lost with no direction, alone... ultimately waiting to die (again, alone); wanting to...
the balancing act between the two sides, the empty void being the piece that will crumble... to create something that will last when everything is gone.
Nothing lasts forever.
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