I know I hurt. the most every day. having. and then it made me not want. I knew it was wrong to want to die so I was thus far trained since I was 18 to not feel self harm ways anymore you know since I slashed my arms enough to bleed like a liter. you know something held my arms as I slashed away? I dont know what it was but it was a kitchen knife, the other thing. the senses of feeling like the ugliest being in the universe. to be so hated and not have any friends or family love me. wondering why no one I truly care about reads my stories. they dont know me. still. I guess its because they dont want to. so a knife, in my heart this time. metaphorical. so surprisingly innocent. to have never known your own big sissy. cause she writes for you to know her. and she writes for you to know earth. and she writes to just let the feelings subside. you know, the painful ones. I know you think of me as like some fictional character. someone so unreal. to have these feelings. I laid there and the baby in me died. the one that trusted everybody. I told myself I couldnt. and when I needed someone to talk to I could think of no one. and in that I need to learn my fears. why do I feel such a way. I doubt anyone else came up with maths for a supercomputer. but now Im sure. I hope Im protected. would you let me die for power? I feel like it was just a whimsy. like something I really wanted for people was to have. then I figured. they will. all beings deserve. to feel happy, at least. lets not be crazy and deleterious. but enamored with life and its randomness of say a beauty. this is my own... now I fear the slayer. of my heart. to lurk in the nighttime. for the morning seemed okay. the ghosts come out at night when it is three and I am afraid of what people will think if I step outside to breathe. I do it anyway. I need to breathe and cant indoors. it hurts. the people and their superstition. it hurts. like a knife slashing away my skin. on cotton.
Posted on: Mon, 22 Sep 2014 01:29:45 +0000
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