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[19 Apr 2005|02:46am] |
the rapes and the dead babies and the death & the death & the death. Mania/Depression. Laughing/Crying. Dancing/Crying. Living/Crying. Swallowing, snorting, smoking; just-one-more-i-promise-it's-my-last-please-i-need-this. The sex and the shame, the dirt; the blood that's probably yours. Too fat, too thin. Too everything, too nothing. Too hungry, not hungry enough. TOO BLACK AND WHITE, TOO GREY. cutting and slashing and please let me die. The disappointment and the tears; the robbing myself of years. The 'Mommy, he hit me'. slut whore junkie runaway failure psycho murderer victim accomplice idiot jerk. Therapy and hospitals; institutions i'll never admit to. silence and screaming. The lonliness. The desperation. Compulsions obsessions binges addictions habits needs cravings impulses and passion wrongly invested. starving away my feelings and then eating up the pain. can't sleep, can't breathe, can't do anything right. Ghosts in my dreams. Scars in my skin. Bones i can see. A throat i could choke, or slice, or rip. People i could hurt. food i could throw up. Blood i haven't spilled, friends i haven't used, guys i haven't fucked, drugs i haven't done, family i haven't destroyed. a face in the mirror i haven't yet met, and a voice in my head i can't quite get rid of.
the rapes and the dead babies and the death & the death & the death.
you need to go away now.
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| Bff |
[28 Mar 2005|04:39pm] |
| [ |
mood |
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 lonely |
] |
| [ |
music |
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Hot Hot Heat. |
] |
i have my best friend and i'm less lonely while i'm with her, but there is still something between us, an invisible film or maybe an ocean that makes sure i am alone with my thoughts, if not my body. I love her and it's fun to pretend we are young and carefree, but there is a mutual respect that keeps us from sharing our demons and planting emotional burdens in each other. The film of ignorance grows and thickens, keeping us together by not ripping us apart like admitting the truth might do. We hold hands in the dark and pull our hoods over our heads tight, trapping the thoughts but sharing the warmth. There's no doubt there are scars, but they remain hidden. Their prescense is enough and to show them would be to open old wounds while inviting new ghosts. So for now we just sit in the rain, hoods pulled tight, smoke curling into the night until smothered by the heavy air. Matching bracelets and lipgloss and tears masked by raindrops. Inhaling our feelings and then blowing them out through pursed lips. Missing boyfriends and childhoods and fairytale memories of simpler times. Wishing we could hop on our bikes and ride back to a place we called home.
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| what you don't see. |
[27 Mar 2005|02:15am] |
| [ |
mood |
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i want to die |
] |
| [ |
music |
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keys clacking |
] |
I look at the pictures and i see someone else. She's there when i glance in the mirror. Pass my reflection. She's pretty. She looks like she could be happy. But i don't know who she is, what she wants, how to cope, how to remember.
That's not me. In the mirror. In the pictures. I want to cry because i've woken up, trapped in a body, nowhere to go, no one to tell. But i can't cry. i would be crying her tears. I don't want to touch myself. i would be touching her. won't look at myself. her. i belong nowhere. not in this house, not in this body. i don't know when this disassociation began, only that it's here now. it's won.
i look at the pictures and i see someone else.
i know it's not me because i don't remember those freckles, those bones, the way the hair falls, the way the feet step. And when did my eyes become green? In a way i don't mind, because i've accomplished what i've wanted for so long: i'm invisible. No one can see me. They see what they want to see and they're fooled every time. Because they don't want to know. And i wish i didn't know either.
The bruises they make with their fingers on my hips, a delicate lattice work i trace myself, pressing down until i wince. trying to remember. failing. the skin made of chalk. The soul bleeding out my eyes. Icy fingers. chattering teeth. Dangerous motives. A sneer on red lips.
That's what no one sees.
As i float through life.
Alone.
That's what no one sees.
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[26 Mar 2005|10:17am] |
| [ |
mood |
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the sun is shining |
] |
| [ |
music |
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in my eyes |
] |
i'm making this my emo journal in
5
4
3
2
1.
i need to write about all of the things inside: feelings. emotions. guts + black stuff. if i don't they'll strangle me from the inside out and my body will be as dead as my mind.
most of you won't want to read it: delete me from your friend's lists accordingly.
i can't make this glamourous.
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[25 Oct 2004|12:55pm] |
| [ |
mood |
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restless |
] |
The day pours golden
The night hangs silver dust on trees.
Chemistry versus alchemy.
Logic versus magic.
Self receeding into darkness
Gypsy queen being born
Into the liquid opal.
Genetic chaos.
Gestation into
A saviour
Or
A satan.
Waiting for you to capture me
And keep me
In a jar built for two.
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[25 Oct 2004|12:44pm] |
| [ |
mood |
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 blank |
] |
What’s worse is trying to explain,
And make the demon image in front of me
Understand why.
Why I’m trying to kick
After so many years of wonderfully ignored memories
Why now give up the fairy tale?
My reasons are my own
But making sense of them
Isn’t what I had in mind, this night.
The old me
With the coy demon smile.
I sometimes want her back.
She’s the one I call
Inquiring what is wrong.
But nothing’s wrong.
She is wonderful
Without me.
And whole.
While I stand here
A transleucent rainbow.
so many things, yet nothing.
Pretty, but dirty
As I crumple to the ground,
And wish for her forgiveness.
This goddess in the mirror
That looks me squarely in the eyes
And says
Fuck you.
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sunsetnumber9's journal