i was so dreadfully wrong

I made a terrible mistake. I am not dead, I am very much alive.

If I was dead I wouldn't feel like this.

Conscience. Guilt. My fault. Vertigo vertigo. Falling down steps.

Dear God what am I going to do?

today i saw you everywhere, but was it you?

I kept seeing you at the corner of my eyes. A ghost, a GHOST! But you are not dead. I am.

in the blink of an eye

Part of me wishes I could take it all back. I feel guilty, I feel hurt and I miss you so much. If only I was completely selfish. Or completely selfless. One or the other, not both. It wouldn't hurt so much. And all the whining in the world won't change a thing. Why is it everyone I love leaves me? Worst, that I make them leave me? What is wrong with my head? I thought I was in control; I am not in control. I am sick, I am sick, sick... Dear God what will I do...

I will be selfless.
I will be selfless.
I will be selfless.

I will lose my self. I have already lost myself. These are only words, I only have words. Words that hurt and betray. Words can't only bring people closer they can cut you off. They are the deadliest weapon, and they are so easy to use, it's so easy to hurt you and I gave in... to my good side?

This is a mess. How can you resent something you did to yourself?

--

It's taken away even the words.Words are rivers and thoughts are oceans and my head is dry and coarse. Desertic. November is here.

but i found the tell-tale heart was mine

« I then smiled gaily, to find the deed so far done. » Will I smother my own heart to quiet its mad beating?

everyone has a secret, can't i keep a few?

When I was twelve years old I found pornographic pictures on my father's computer. I cried for days and days. I didn't understand why they would be there. I deleted them. I found a video tagged XXX, mixed in with my sister's cassettes, I threw it out. I saw the school counselor and she made me burn a letter adressed to him. I never wrote it, I didn't tell her, the enveloppe was empty, I couldn't find the words.

Ever since, I've been writing. Ever since, I've been burning letters. At school, I learned that destruction was a way to cope with your problems.

I still do not understand.

and please don't forget I'm a terrible liar

and half the things I say aren't true. You probably will never read this but I still do need you. Alive and well and happy. Not tortured, not turned into flimsy ashes that can't withstand even the weakest breeze. I am no good for you, damn it. You know it's true. You know the crazy comes back stronger when I'm around you; don't lie to me, because I feel that way too. Now your ghost and my guilt will haunt me forever, but I'm hoping you will get on with your life. Maybe one of us can be saved.

and i hope this warning will save you

I don't know what I'm hoping for- if I am still capable of feeling hope- or how you will react to the changes in me. Maybe you'll be annoyed by my antics and finally give up? Maybe you will realize the futility of trying to salvage this soul of mine, that is bent and torn and sown together with large uneven stitches and scraps of recycled material, an image of the body which contains it? Or- even better- you'll see me for who I am, and watch me sink into the hell I knowingly and willingly created for myself, waving a handkerchief, whispering "bon voyage", sickly-sweet? This could happen if you had even the smallest crumb of a desire for self-preservation, but you don't. Or am I being conceited or boastful, thinking the affection I have for you and that which you claim to have for me is strong enough to have a fatal consequence? I have too many questions and you are seeking answers. I am a spark and you seek water, and you've found its softness in the caress of its delicate waves but part of you is still burning, you are so very combustible, so very influenced by those you love, and I have taken advantage of this to lodge the flame of my fury in the cracks that run through your soul. You are burning inwards, the damage unseen by your forgiving eyes. When the smoke begins to billow out in soft tuffets of greys and browns it will be too late.

I tell you to beware of treacherous seas but they are your best refuge from fire. It will be dark without its light but you can close your eyes when you're underwater. Let the swift currents be your guide, you who are blind and delusionnal.

so many things I hadn't broken, shattered

I don't mean to hurt you. You just need to go away, leave now. There are too many things that I can break. Too many people I can betray. Please do not be one of them.These impulses are inside me and I know they are stronger than I'll ever be. I am scared!

I so desperately want to escape to my dreamland of books and music and open spaces. But now they provoke me because I am not worthy of beautiful things. You have always given me words and sounds and beauty, and the harder I try to get away from you, the more I receive. Furious I am left with the burnt pages of printed-out messages and the clippings of what used to be my earphones. I can't stand the things I love anymore.

You're next.

i wish i had somewhere to feel safe

I know I haven't posted in a while. Things have been, well, hard. But the kind of hard that just seems like a constant struggle, that hides behind forced laughs, false apologies and smiles that don't reach the eyes. I am so tired, I am so weary of fighting everything. I can't find the energy to explain what is going on. You understand, right? I don't want to desert you. But there's something wrong, terribly wrong.. I'm stuck, don't you see? I am trapped, a wild animal in a cage, hysterical. You tell me, there are no walls, there are no iron bars. But there are. You are my wall, my bar, my cage. You and all of my friends and my family and my acquaintances. I am trapped in this body, in this personnality, in this life because of your conception of me. Can't you see? I can be anything I want to be. I could wake up tomorrow morning and become someone else. Become me. But I can't. You won't let me. You and everyone else, you want me to stay the same, always. Tell me, what is wrong with inconsistency? Why can't I be two, three, ten people at once? Why can't I be invisible when I want to, or the center of attention? Why can't I cry, and then laugh, and then scream? Why is that wrong? If I want to cry, and laugh, and scream, why would you prevent me from doing so? You can't tell me how to be happy. Maybe that isn't even what I want. You can't tell me what is right and wrong because I am all-powerful in my mind and I live by my own moral rules. Why am I stuck in this iron-cast mold, with my future poured in the dullest concrete? Why do you expect so much of me? To walk into a room, greet the people I know, join in the conversation, smile politely, be interested? Why can't I kick in the door, sing at the top of my lungs, then hide in a corner and think out loud, and say things like they are? Why would acting like that land me in a nuthouse? Maybe you're the nut. And I love you, but it's killing me, being trapped. The real me, not the one you've conceived in your mind, the one that makes you feel safe and loved and important, she doesn't exist, it's all in your head! Only what's in my head matters to me! But that isn't true. Because if it did I wouldn't care about your feelings. And I do. But I don't need you anymore. I don't need you to hold me up or to tell me what to do. There is something building up and it's going to be big. If I am stuck for too long, I am going to break out of this place and I won't care who gets hurt. That is what I'm becoming. Insensitive. Unforgiving. Selfish. Hateful. Furious.

Because fury is the only thing that will keep me alive. Strong. Willing to live and exist and be. You've noticed, you've seen the change in my eyes or in my words. Soon it'll be the only thing that drives me. An animal that is trapped and scared will lash out at anyone. Madness. My compassion is dying. I don't want to hurt you. Won't you stop pulling me in?