regrets
If I could take back the hurt
Take back the words
Given the chance
You know I would
If I could erase it all
With a wave of my hand
You know I would
The hurt I’ve caused
With only a few words
If I could repair it
You know I would
My mind’s full of regrets
But you tell me not to worry
The past can’t be changed
And you’re happy its out
But still I can’t forget
The hurt I caused you
The words that can never be taken back
I should just leave
Take my past with me
Let you live you life
Away from me, and the troubles I bring
Free from the hurt
That I cause you

a fresh start
The crisp white sheets
On the freshly made bed
Reflect the light
Streaming in through my window
The paleness of my skin
Appears to glow in the light

I lie motionless
A tattered angel
Lost in a sea of white
The world passes by me
Not knowing why I’m here
Swaddled like a new born

The gleam of the light
Gives me an iridescent glow
As I lie here
Dead to the world
Cut off from all life
Between my crisp white sheets

I close my eyes
And drift into a blissful sleep
Leaving all my cares behind
Lying there in my hospital bed
Like a pure child
Absorbed in the light

All my memories fade away
Till there’s nothing but white
A blank canvas
For the doctors to paint on
The mind of a newborn child
Waiting to be put together

The process of “I love you”
I’m trying to put down in words the way I feel
The way I feel about you
But the words won’t come
They stick in my throat like barbed wire
Inside my head its all too easy
But down on paper the words jumble
The ink blurs and smudges
In my head everything is clear
But still the words won’t flow

Their meaning seems so heavy
Heavy enough to fall through the floor
But still they refuse to fall
You stare up at me
In awe of what I want to say
My mouth becomes dry
My legs start to shake
I know I can’t continue
Your eyes beg me to tell my long kept secret

I stutter and gag as i choke my words back
The words that long to fall effortlessly out of my mouth
The words that I want you to hear
The words that I dread you hearing
We skate on thin ice as time runs out
I long to say it but I dread your reaction
Why must it be so hard?
Why must it be so intimidating?
The process of “I love you”

A Haunted Mind
Ellie lay on her bed scrunched up into the foetal position; her long curly brown hair lay across her face hiding her from the world like a velvet curtain. The sheer volume of her CD player drowned all sound from the outside world out. If she couldn’t live in a world where things were right, she wouldn’t live it in at all. She’d simply stay up in her room, surrounded by her music until she faded away into the background, faded into nothingness. She always wondered how that would work, could she really die like that? Could she really sit there and will herself to die, would the repeated thought of it be enough to convince her body to stop working?
Her mother walked in and calmly went over to the desk pausing Ellie’s music. Not even bothering to comment on the eardrum splitting volume of the sound.
“There’s someone on the phone for you.” She said in a voice almost devoid of all emotion, clearly this was something she’d seen from Ellie regularly and it was obvious she was growing tired of it. Ellie didn’t move from where she lay, she only held her arm out to be handed the phone, for a second she said nothing and her mother taking the hint left the room closing the door behind her.
“Hello?” said Ellie softly.
“Hey, its Emma.” Said the voice on the other end. “Are you coming out tonight?”
“No, I think I’d rather stay home tonight.” Replied Ellie in a voice that seemed almost silenced by tears.
“But it’ll be fun, besides David’ll be there. It’ll do you good to get out of the house. Just come out this one time, and have a bit of fun. Please.” Begged Emma.
“I don’t want to, I’m sick of having to pretend to be something I’m not.” Said Ellie sounding almost as devoid of emotion as her mother.
Ellie hung up the phone and placed it beside her. She uncurled herself to reveal a pair of beautiful big brown eyes, beautiful apart from the reddish tinge to them where her eyes were still sore from crying, a tear stained face, and long slender pale limbs marked with scars scratches and scabs from where she’d been “picking away” at herself as her doctors put it.
She unsteadily got up off the bed and slowly, like a child taking its first steps made her way wobbling to her desk to turn her music back on. The sound of Placebo filled the room.
“Come on Balthazar
I refuse to let you die
Come of fallen star
I refuse to let you die

Cause it’s wrong
And I've been waiting far too long
And it's wrong
I've been waiting far too long
For you to be
Be
Be
Be

Be mine
For you to be mine
Be mine
For you to be mine

And it's wrong
I've been waiting far too long
It's wrong
I've been waiting far too long
For you to be
Be
Be
Be

All the centrefolds
That you can't afford
Have long since waved their last goodbyes
All the centrefolds
That you can't afford
You've long since faded from their eyes

So be
Be mine
So be
Be mine”
Ellie fell back into a heap on the floor and resumed her crying. It’d been over a month and a half since she stopped taking her anti depressants and she was returning to her now normal erratic state, the drugs were making their way out of her system, it felt like a curtain was being lifted from Ellie’s face, a curtain of false happiness that her drugs had created for her. And now there was only blackness, the cold hard bitter black truth. It felt like a slap in the face, the realisation that she was going to die, that everyone was eventually. And no matter what she did to stop it, it would happen. Why should she bother to brush her hair in the mornings, she was only going to die after all. Why go to college, she wouldn’t need it once she was dead, what good was knowledge when you weren’t around to use it.
What good was any of it anymore? Everything’s eventual after all, you can’t stop a speeding train before it hurtles off a cliff, brutally killing everyone inside.
Ellie didn’t want to move, in fact she didn’t know that she had the strength, she struggled even to lift her arm, in fact she was only crying because she was scared of what might happen when she stopped. She could hear her mum coming up the stairs again, probably disturbed by the noise coming from Ellie’s room, the walls were so thin in that house that it was next to impossible even to sneeze without being heard next door.
“Ellie.” Called her mum softly “I know you’re in there, don’t you want to come out and talk”
Ellie just lay there, she was sick of her mum cooing at her like this, like she was still a little baby. Within a few minutes her mum got sick of there being no answer and went back downstairs.
Ellie somehow managed to lift her arm and slide it underneath the dresser, fumbling for her former best friend, she found it, the kitchen knife her mum thought had got lost in the move up from Folkestone. She clutched the handle of the knife as tightly as she could, and tracing the blade along her veins just hard enough leave a faint mark on the skin, she played like this for a second or two before gripping the knife firmly in her right hand again and pushing down, she watched the blood drip out of her arm, the vivid scarlet river a stark contrast to the paper white of Ellie’s skin, she watched this for a minute before moving onto her other wrist. To speed up the bleeding process she cut at herself some more, taking the knife and slashing at any other veins she could find, wincing in pain each time she slid the knife across her skin. When she’d done Ellie lay back and smiled, she smiled the smile of a girl who’d just got what she wanted, and didn’t regret any of it, or did she?
“I don’t want to die.” Whispered Ellie to herself. The look of her face at the realisation of what she’d just said was one of shock, even more so when she realised what she’d just said was true.
“I…don’t…want…to…die.” she said again this time taking in what she’d said word by word.
“I DON’T WANT TO DIE!” she screamed with every once of strength she possessed, but by the time her mother made it up the stairs and into Ellie’s room after several minutes of wrestling with herself over whether this was another one of Ellie’s screaming moments for no particular reason Ellie was lying in a pool of her own blood, clutching her knife, her body still warm but paler than death itself. She still retained every bit of her beauty, but none of her madness; she’d finally killed the monsters in her head. Ellie’s mother sat weeping over the body of her daughter, clutching Ellie’s hand to her face as the warmth began to fade.

ramble on society
to be brutally honest i've never seen the appeal of following the crowd in anything, i am my own person, i'm not a sheep. but still i get abuse for dressing how i want to, or listening to the music i want. I've never been someone who will listen to something because everyone else is, rather i get burnt by that sort of thing, if i like something before its popular once it becomes popular it loses its appeal for me.
i, like most people with the brains to stand up for themselves and take a look around at the way the world works, get annoyed with society dictating to us what we wear, how we act, even our musical taste, purely because someone sitting in their ivory tower thinks that they can.
Clothes and music don't make a person who they are, i can go out wearing a pretty dress and listen to some cheesy pop band and i'm still the same person i am if i go out wearing my studded collar, baggy jeans and a hoodie listening to korn or slipknot. in my view you can change the outside as often as you like, but no matter how hard you try nobody can change the inside, we can be told that depression's all the rage and so we flock to our doctors in droves wailing about how bad we feel, and demanding that we're put on prozac. as elizabeth wurtzel pointed out prozac at one time seemed to be the national drug of america, and britain is no better. Perhaps the amount of celebrities suffering depression has led to an increase in we normal people suffering the illness. likewise with suicide, often when a famous person ends their life many fans follow suit in copy-cat suicides, after all if a gun to the head's good enough for kurt cobain its good enough for the rest of us, isn't it? the difference being kurt was genuinely ill, i don't deny that many fans were also ill and found a way out through nirvana's music.
people with no sense of self, who just follow the crowd in whatever they do seem more unlikely to my mind to succeed in life, something unusual sticks out in job interviews or dark clubs. you don't think to give the ordinarily dressed girl a second look, but the girl with six rings through her nose and eyebrow, however repulsive her apearance may seem to you will still get a second look, purely because she's more unusual to look at and stands out. I hate to fade into the background normally, i'd prefer people to stand up and take notice of who i am and what i feel. though society loves to pigeonhole everyone, mosher, goth, trendy. it doesn't work too well.
almost everyone i know will listen to several different types of music, or wear what they want, to a certain extent, they talk to people from different groups, and think nothing of it. so does that mean that we break society's rules of not speaking to "the freaks" by allowing ourselves to step over the line and befriend someone with differing views to our own.
sexuality is another thing society will attempt to opress us with, men are frequently told that its not masculine to show emotion, or hug another man for fear of being called gay, girls are taught in the changing rooms that you keep your eyes and hands to yourself, or its halfway round school that you're a lesbian by lunchtime. then the girls get a little older and they get to learn what men like, so some of them will themselves to be bisexual, to fill most men's not so secret desires. but bisexuality in itself causes too many problems, you're too gay to be straight, but you're too striaght to be gay, in essence society tells us that we have to be straight and go form functional families of the future, in many countries outside of britain sexuality isn't seen as a big deal, you are what you are and that's it, nobody makes a fuss, nobody bats an eyelid at two men kissing on tv. but here it britain it seems that homosexuality is the last stigma, hundreds of complaints receieved from angry parents, frurious at the bbc for showing a lesbian kiss before 9pm, strangely enough no letters of complaint when buffy and spike kiss. parents seem unwilling to expose their children to anything other than the norm, perhaps out of fear that they'll follow suit, or perhaps just to avoid the hassle of having to explain to the child why that girl's kissing another girl, when they've been told repeatedly that girls only ever kiss boys.
society also seems to see children and teenagers not as younger adults but as little people who sit on daddy's knee and stare in wide eyed wonderment as he bounces them on his knee telling them all he knows of the world, when reality children suffer almost as much as adults at times, but nobody sees that, today's children are a lot more worldly than their parents, we're surrounded by drugs, and the pressures of sex and we have to make the decision whether to give into society and follow the crowd, or think about what we're doing, use our brains and decide that no, we won't give in, instead we will follow the sesible route knowing full well how hard it is to resist certain temptations. you know children are really maturing when you can talk to a ten year old girl who can explain calmly and cooly the treatments she's having for her terminal cancer, as she accepts that she's going to die very soon. or when you talk to someone several years younger than yourself who's been forced to take on the responsibility of parent to their younger brothers and sisters because their dad died in the same car accident that left their mother terribly disabled. society still seems to view anyone under eighteen as people who know nothing of the world, even though many of them have had to suffer burdens that the average thirty year old hasn't.