(no subject)
I said I was tired of hating myself. I lied.
I'll never get tired, because if I cannot hate myself I wouldn't know what else to do. I could go all day cursing, 24 hours, 7 days, weeks, months, years, forever. I hate myself. I hate my guts. I hate everything.
I went to school for this activity. Took me forever to decide. Finally I saw them, I turned around and went home.
I saw how happy they looked, hot boys, beautiful girls. I wouldn't fit. I would never have the guts to try. Alas here I am, leading my secret life, enitirely lifeless and filled with sorrow. In times like this I would've asked for the knife and cut myself until I reach eternal slumber.
I can't help but feel pity for myself.
I wanted to join rock-climbing, archery, canoeing, but I did not. All because of this; this thing I have to live with, my enemy in the dark, my devil. The feeling of not being good enough for anything; my ugliness, my cracked heart, my speared spirit.
I am not worth anything.
I don't think I have the faith to believe that everything will change. I had light, once. My sun has faded- I'm drowning in the black sea.
My tears are poisonous, my words are pungent, I don't know what I am good for.
I can't vanquish these demons. I don't even think they were ever there. It has been me all along, my inner voice, my pathetic guts, my condenscending remarks. I played my own game, I moved the pieces, and I am losing.
There was never a battle. All this shit about battling life and the people around. I never fought, I took what was given to me. A slap, a whip, a cane mark, words that lived with me...
My own self-hate. My anger.
I can't come to terms with my past. I don't remember being a child, and now I wish I could just curl up and suck my thumb, wailing for mother to come. But mother never came. Mother never cared.
I'm haunted by these flashes of the past, that I fear people. I've never had friends, I never let anyone touch me. Because I'll never forget what happened to me. Useless. Filth. Scum. Useless, useless, useless.
I feel dead.
I want to weep.
I'm too fat to live.
Help me God, I don't want to die. I don't want to cry. I don't want to be like this. I can't take this life in my hands, it's too much of a burden, like spikes sinking into the flesh of my hands, the searing pain...
I don't know what to do.
I know nothing.
I'll never get tired, because if I cannot hate myself I wouldn't know what else to do. I could go all day cursing, 24 hours, 7 days, weeks, months, years, forever. I hate myself. I hate my guts. I hate everything.
I went to school for this activity. Took me forever to decide. Finally I saw them, I turned around and went home.
I saw how happy they looked, hot boys, beautiful girls. I wouldn't fit. I would never have the guts to try. Alas here I am, leading my secret life, enitirely lifeless and filled with sorrow. In times like this I would've asked for the knife and cut myself until I reach eternal slumber.
I can't help but feel pity for myself.
I wanted to join rock-climbing, archery, canoeing, but I did not. All because of this; this thing I have to live with, my enemy in the dark, my devil. The feeling of not being good enough for anything; my ugliness, my cracked heart, my speared spirit.
I am not worth anything.
I don't think I have the faith to believe that everything will change. I had light, once. My sun has faded- I'm drowning in the black sea.
My tears are poisonous, my words are pungent, I don't know what I am good for.
I can't vanquish these demons. I don't even think they were ever there. It has been me all along, my inner voice, my pathetic guts, my condenscending remarks. I played my own game, I moved the pieces, and I am losing.
There was never a battle. All this shit about battling life and the people around. I never fought, I took what was given to me. A slap, a whip, a cane mark, words that lived with me...
My own self-hate. My anger.
I can't come to terms with my past. I don't remember being a child, and now I wish I could just curl up and suck my thumb, wailing for mother to come. But mother never came. Mother never cared.
I'm haunted by these flashes of the past, that I fear people. I've never had friends, I never let anyone touch me. Because I'll never forget what happened to me. Useless. Filth. Scum. Useless, useless, useless.
I feel dead.
I want to weep.
I'm too fat to live.
Help me God, I don't want to die. I don't want to cry. I don't want to be like this. I can't take this life in my hands, it's too much of a burden, like spikes sinking into the flesh of my hands, the searing pain...
I don't know what to do.
I know nothing.