I only keep myself this sick in the head... ('cause I love how the words get me (off).) >> ???
"Don't take these words at face value, or don't take them at all."
"Same familiar shit, just with more wit."
"Same familiar shit with an added dose of wit."
DING DING DING.
I miss Josh.
The following is directly from an AIM convo, so not edited or thought through, etc:
I'm so stuck.
In everything.
Like tracing shapes over and over until your fingers bleed.
Or standing in the rain until you're soaked just to know you can.
God I wish it was raining.
I want to shake things up and make everyone see.
What it's like to feel like this.
But at the same time I want to know what it's like to be someone else.
I want to paint everything black for miles.
Until it's too dark to see.
Do you know what that's like?
I want to stare into the sun until my eyes bleed.
Too bad the sun never shines bright enough in a place like this.
But I never really know what I want, I feel like I could do something reckless tonight.
Like steal a car and rob a bank.
Except I don't know how to drive or where to get a gun.
So there goes any chance of adventure.
Leaving me with a kind of empty blankness.
To just sit here.
And think about how things could be better even if it won't help.
Because nothing ever does.
But the sun never shines bright enough in a place like this.
It would shine brighter if we painted everything black.
But then.
It would be too dark to see.
Is that weird?
It's like screaming in a quiet classroom.
Or running out into the middle of a football game.
And everyone just stares at you like you're crazy and they hate you.
That's how you make me feel sometimes.
I wish I could sew my eyes shut.
I wish I could press my palms into my eyes until I just stop seeing.
And crying.
Like senses numbed in a less romantic way.
If I could do that...
Just sew my eyes shut, pierce my eardrums and rip out my vocal chords...
I would.
I could.
And I probably should.
It's like the beautiful girls who say they're fat and ugly, you know they do it just to hear you tell them they're wrong.
Like calling white black or red blue and green yellow.
It just doesn't work because you'll get grey or purple.
But if everything was grey and purple, things would be so much better.
And I hate the feeling of dried tears on my cheeks.
But it happens too often.
It reminds me of that Johnny The Homicidal Maniac comic and the wall of blood.
Where he keeps killing people to keep the blood fresh.
Because when it dries, it's not the same color and he hates it.
I feel like I'm doing that.
Emotions instead of people, tears instead of blood.
You know?
So typically typically set back and traced trailed and wasted on everything and nothing at all all at once but just once it could be worth something but it's not it won't it won't stop because I'm so stuck.
Bad habits and broken hearts are busted blood veins and bright lights in our eyes.
Can't find a way to get yourself out when you try.
Don't listen to a word I say,
don't believe a word you've heard.
As far as selfish goes, you're giving me a run for my money.
For sure.
But it's okay, we're only standing still.
How's that, I wrote that. It's a poem. Do you like it? Do you like it mommy? Can you read it, please? Tell me I'm good, tell me I'm okay, tell me you love me and I'm not just some fuck up like I always have been.
Hahaha. Dementia progressive.
And when people ask me what's wrong, it's so empty.
If they ask at all.
I love when people as what's wrong, and when I don't answer, they ask who did what to upset me.
But they don't realize it's a matter of what they didn't do or wouldn't do.
And I'm so scared of mirrors.
I won't touch them.
I don't look at them.
At least not directly.
They just stare back with empty eyes and sometimes they'll smile, but that's empty, too.
And I want to reach out and touch them and rearrange them.
Like a picasso. Just keep trying until you get something twisted and beautiful.
But I think I could try forever and never get something good enough.
And sometimes I want to scratch them out.
But I think I could do that until my nails chipped and cracked and then ripped off completely.
Do you ever feel like that?
It's better to face these kinds of things with a sense of poise and rationality.
I wonder what you do when your senses are gone and your rationality is running low.
Because I mean, I never had much poise anyway.
Pills thrills chills Hollywood hills kills and spills.
I think these songs rhyme too much, get out of my head.
Selfish sickness will eat you alive, so fuck your mind and your looks and your life, I'm done.
For now, anyway.
