i stare at myself my pale skin that clings to my ribs revealing the lump on the right side of my chest the knuckles protruding from the center of my breast am i anorexic skinny or bulemic skinnyneither of which i am. im skinny
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oh dear. it makes me feel sick to be a part of this. life... this... oh. and it isn't a 'woe to me'. it's an... i am so afraid of being the way once again.. the way that pain doesn't even hurt anymore. i can't even feel anymore. but that hurt on the inside from where you used to feel, if only once, felt so much. there is just so much. and taking however ungodly amount of pills each day, and praying for a freak drive by gang incident or a car wreck. hah. sometimes i don't even have the strength to hurt myself anymore. oh. i don't know... anymore.. i just don't know anymore. (i do, however, know that i say that altogether too much) i'll be seeing you later? - 'hey you know me, is it... iggy?' "igby. leave me alone"
p.s. jesus f.... fucking... CHRIST! (were you concious for that one?)what now? elliott smith! this requires some serious time to ponder the meaning of... continuing living.
jesus f fucking christ. i was coherent enough to vaguely remember hearing it.
igby? thats funny. not funny in the har har kinda way, but funny in the way that youre wrong. so wrong. but i think well never reach a mutual agreement on this....
last night went from numb to good...in a matter of a few minutes, the time it took me to drink half a cup of coffee and smoke half of someone elses cigarette while i watched half of a gang war, and half assed/heartedly prayed that there would be guns drawn. then i went in, sat down, and thought...wow..i think alison would have appreciated what just went on outside, but alas, no alison.
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in any case though, things will be *okay* on that day
fer the both of ya
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it makes me feel sick to be a part of this.
life... this...
oh.
and it isn't a 'woe to me'.
it's an... i am so afraid of being the way once again..
the way that pain doesn't even hurt anymore.
i can't even feel anymore.
but that hurt on the inside from where you used to feel, if only once,
felt so much.
there is just so much.
and taking however ungodly amount of pills each day,
and praying for a freak drive by gang incident or a car wreck.
hah. sometimes i don't even have the strength to hurt myself anymore.
oh. i don't know... anymore.. i just don't know anymore.
(i do, however, know that i say that altogether too much)
i'll be seeing you later?
- 'hey you know me, is it... iggy?' "igby. leave me alone"
p.s. jesus f.... fucking... CHRIST! (were you concious for that one?)what now? elliott smith! this requires some serious time to ponder the meaning of... continuing living.
Reply
igby? thats funny. not funny in the har har kinda way, but funny in the way that youre wrong.
so wrong.
but i think well never reach a mutual agreement on this....
last night went from numb to good...in a matter of a few minutes, the time it took me to drink half a cup of coffee and smoke half of someone elses cigarette while i watched half of a gang war, and half assed/heartedly prayed that there would be guns drawn.
then i went in, sat down, and thought...wow..i think alison would have appreciated what just went on outside, but alas, no alison.
Reply
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