Sometimes things are so dark, so bleary, I wish that I could just leave this world forever. I wish that I could just sink into my pillows, grow wings in my dreams and fly away from here. Night after night of crying at my computer, screen lighting up my tears in some sickly putrescent glow. Day after day of running to the bathroom in the middle of class and curling up on the floor, washing their stares, their words away in tears. I stare at food like it is alien, having no appetite, or else fearing it. I prey on safety pins to make my blood prove I'm alive. It makes me want to die, everything I feel, and no matter how hard I try I don't think I could ever convey this to you. I want to be alive! I don't want to be a zombie, a fake-girl who walks around in a shell. I don't want the angel in my dreams to grow tarnished wings anymore...
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I finger my scars like an old past. It's been three weeks, I tell myself. Almost a month. I even held her razor blades captive, and didn't use them once. Why do I pretend? I ask myself. Why do I pretend to be fine when nothing is? The scars have gotten deeper. The scars will always get deeper.
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Oh god I want to hurt myself right now. Tonight I was desperate for some paints. I needed them so badly that when I found they were all dried up I tore open the tubes and used them as crayons. I colored, skribbled, pressed with fingers and sheer will. A black swirling hole with purple edges. Orange streaks of anger and rage and screaming X it all out. And it is surrounded by black. All black. Like a crow playing in her own blood. No wonder I dislike crow's so much. I am one. Playing in her own blood, juggling it between her fingers like she was sifting sand.
Home is Where the INDEX is...
Useless
Those Left Standing
What The @#$%???!!!!
