i had to be the bitch.
so now the family's mad at me again.
i wonder if i can still get my bag.
i don't know what i'm doing actually.
it's like i want them to be mad at me.
i need them to be mad at me.

everything's one sick, confusing swirl.
one minute i'm laughing.
i'm actually enjoying myself.
the next minute, i'm trying to blink back tears.
intense mood swinging much?

i'm getting terrified of my own imagination.
it scares me, that i want to do it so badly.
and then i get irritated,
when i chicken out at the last minute.
and do it so lightly, nothing fucking happens.

it isn't to amuse me anymore.
it's a necessity.
that scares the shit out of me.
yet sustains me strangely enough.

if i were to dissect my brain, do you think i'd find nothing?
or maybe this little compartment, where i stuffed all the memories.
and then threw the key away.
and then when i dissect my heart, what would i find?
somehow i think i'll find a grey heart.
devoid of colour, feelings. whatever.
just empty. except for all the capillaries, aorta, vena cava and whatever else.

i just need to keep up with what i'm doing.
i'll definitely end up that way.

a soul.
that's supposed to be the essence of a human being right.
and when we die, God judges our soul,
to determine if we go to hell or heaven.
there's no question then where i belong.
melvin's words struck a chord on tuesday night.
"she knows that she's beyond salvation, and going to hell. so she doesn't care anymore. because what's the point in caring?" or something to that extent.

what's the point in me caring?
i know where i belong.
it's not up.
it's straight down where i'll always belong.

if you can barely feel anything.
does this mean there's a hole in your soul?
what's the purpose of your soul anyway?
does it really allow you to feel.
or is it just overrated?

wouldn't it be nice if we found paradise someday?

i've been having shitty nightmares.
mostly of my dad finding out.
and i wonder,
are they just a reflection of my guilt?
of what i'm terrified will happen?
though actually, that's just dumb.

dad will never find out.
because dad will never care.
none of them do anyway.

why cry?
exactly.
the problem's convincing myself.
i'm almost doing a good job of it if i may say so.

when life has been unkind,
and you're losing your mind.
look into the mirror,
afraid of what you'll find.
feels like time's not on your side.
5:50 PM
|