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I donít know how to tell her I want it to stop. We argue until thereís nothing left and we canít make it stop. I want it to stop, she wants it to stop, but we canít help ourselves. We lunge at each other throats with no mercy given and hope for the worst. I hate every minute of it and I want to tell her so, and I do but nothing is ever good enough. I wish I knew how to make it stop, I want it to stop so badly, but it never will. It will never stop.
I never make a new yearís resolution; I guess it takes after my dad, because he never does either. I guess the only reason people make resolutions is to take the bad out of their lives, but it never works; it only makes it harder .We, as humans, constantly dwell on the bad, whether we know it or not. Iím truly not trying to be pessimistic, but this is how the world turns, baby. Take it or leave it. I guess what Iím saying is resolutions are stupid, because there is no way to stop what we know is inevitable.
Iím not sure what I want to do with my life yet. Iíve always said I wanted to be a doctor or vet, but now Iím not so sure. I think thatís what I want, but Iím interested in other things that wouldnít involve years and years of schooling. I want to help others but at the same time I want to do something I love. But I also donít want to regret my decision. Anyone Iíve talked to that didnít pursuer their dreams has kicked themselves in the butt repeatedly, and whatever I decide I donít want any regrets.
I'm fabulous at procrastination. If it was an Olympic sport, I would take home the gold without a doubt. In fact, I am procrastination right now; I really should be working on my ďWorking BibliographyĒ for English, but Iím not; Iím here because my friend told me this thing was up and running and I just had to check it out. I know what Iím doing and I know this procrastinating will have a bad effect, but itís almost addictive without knowing itís addictive. Maybe I should just go and do my home work instead of procrastinating and making excusesÖ
Has anyone ever heard of the song John Wayne Gacy, Jr. by Sufjan Stevens? It's a depressing song because it's a true story. If you don't know what I'm talking about then either go check out Sufjan Stevens or look up John Wayne Gacy, Jr. The song is about John Wayne Gacy, Jr. and about how he lured all these people into his home and killed them. Itís scary because for all you know someone could be lurking in the shadows, waiting for you. I donít listen to the song very much because it makes me scared, but it Ďs good.
I must confess; I don't know who you are. We are friends yet don't know who you (we) are. We want to talk about this gap, the wall that separates our lives, and yet we refuse. Our heads are messed up, wondering who you (we) are, but we won't ask. We refrain from the truth because we can't see eye to eye. We (I) (you) want to know so much more, but the way we feel inside tells our mouthsí quiet and the gap open. Itís stupid how we are, my friend, but until we speak we wonít ever change.
This madness that evokes our lives is causing insanity. The sadness we feel when we aren't who we are and the anger we feel inside when we lie about the truth. I've come to see this as a disease; in no way violent but toxic all the same. They tell us this can be stopped, others say it's all in your mind; saying all will be well but it won't. The days that come do just the same as the last, never know what comes next or how it will end. This fight we fight is ending soon, my love.
I'm writing this here today, making my words into writing and my writing into meaning. Once I get it all out, it will make sense, but until then they're all inside, screaming to be let out and written. So listen to me, my friends and I will tell you a secret. This life may change and the people will go away, but they're all the same. As our lives keep turning and the world revolves; the people keep coming and going and making plans. This may not make sense now dear, but wait for your turn and it will come.
The lights are flickering on and off, with no one in the room to make it stop. If these walls could speak, they would lie to you. You wouldn't ever know what went on while you were gone, getting your sick and twisted high in the bathroom stall. But see, now that you've been gone you're just a distant memory, fading and peeling like the paint in your room. That room that you once called your own, where your pleasant dreams mixed with the bittersweet endings; where you carved into the bathroom wall a depicted mockery of your down fall.
Would life be better if there was no pain? If all the suffering in the world was gone and the anger subsided, would that make it all better? But without all the wishful hoping to make it stop and the long nights we cried ourselves to sleep, there would be no happiness. Without all this my dear, although I know it may hurt now, it will get better. Even though it may seem like there's nothing left, trust me when I say it will be alright. Without the pain, darling, the feelings we feel after the fall would mean nothing.
I watched a young boy struggle today. He was in love with the girl in black and she secretly felt the same. She was scared, that if her boyfriend found out she would wind up six feet under. The young boy brought her flowers and she threw them away; he walked away and cried silent tears and the girl did the same. But that night the girl let it slip about her secret and she had nowhere to flee. She found the boy in the abandoned church, and told him of her fear and together they left and found happiness.
I'm sitting here waiting for the call. I know its coming; it's essentially inevitable and I grimace at the thought of when it happens. I can't stand waiting for you though, and I want to make a decision right now. I'm not sure how much more of this I can take; the daily torture that we call acquaintance is merely an unadulterated hell. We mask our hurt and cover it with fun, when really weíre screaming to make it all stop. I really love you but I canít play this game anymore, itís the all consuming fire that ravages me.
I hope I'm not being too optimistic when I say I love you; this is new for me and I want this to be good. I haven't been this happy for a while, and when you get to know me, you will understand. But I hope that you feel the same boy, because the way you were acting sure told me so. I want to know you more, and I'm thinking this will be good. But I'm a little hesitant, because I know how your kind acts; so I hope I donít regret this when I say I love you.
I remember when I was little and it snowed. Nobody had gone out to the street, so there were no slush marks, and nobody bothered to venture outside because it was too cold. I sat in front of my door watching it begin to snow ever more outside, and it became perfect. I feel like I am little again, watching it snow outside; like everything is in slow motion and everything has stopped but you and me; that if weíre touched, the perfectness would go away. The only thing that would remain would be two puddles of wet, melted snow.
If everyone around just opened their eyes, they could see what theyíre doing. Nobody realizes how much we are truly hurting one another. We may think our whispers cannot be heard, but they are really being projected to the highest mountains. The venom that our tongues pour into one another's soul is a vicious cycle, never ending, never slowing. We continue on thinking we cannot be hurt by what we are doing, but don't we see; we have already killed with our poison marked pasts. While this continues, people are dieing everyday, and we sit back laughing at the misery.
I feel as if this burning feeling will never go away; like a permanent fire planted inside my heart. It feels like hell, but you're still walking away. Not caring if this kills me from the inside out; pretending like you don't hear my desperate screams. I'm so sick and I feel empty now that you've walked away from us. This feeling will never go away; it will burn until there's nothing left of me. You stand there, looking away from my eyes, the same eyes you once called beautiful. How can you throw away something you once considered beautiful?
I've never been this scared in my entire life than I was today. You see all kinds of warning signs, but who pays attention? We walk on by thinking we will be all fine, but then one day something happens. And you bleed, and you cry, and you wonder if this is the result from all those careless days in the sun. I feel numb right now, and when it wears off, the pain will start once again. I want to know where this came from, there was no way to know that this would happen, but it just did.
I'm inside the looking glass, seeing out to the world around me, but no one can look in. They wonder what's going on inside, but do they truly care. They pretend they're my friends, and they act as if they know me but they don't. And while I'm sitting inside this looking glass looking out, I realize this is the end of the line for us. We have no where to go beyond this point. As much as you want to fight it and as much as you argue, you know deep down inside you feel the same way too.
Hope in the dark in this grueling world. The mayhem you cause with your disease and grief makes this world an ugly place to live. We spread your germs by the palm of our hands, and think nothing of it when we walk away. We travel to those ill-fated worlds, to spread our truth and knowledge. But when we leave we think nothing of it, we continue on with our lives, as if that world we once saw never existed. That world we see, full of the dead and diseased, is slowly dying, while we weep for those we pity.
They're here now, and I'm left hollow, like all the life was taken out of my and now I'm just an empty nothing. This life they want to create is too exhausting; I just can't keep up with all their demands. They want for me to be a child again, playing dress up and pretending I'm the queen. But what they don't know is that I'm not like that anymore, I'm not the little girl you think I am and I'm won't become her again. This little girl is all grown up, friend, and now you see I am me.
I can't believe that just happened, she preaches her words of sweetness, then comes at me dripping with heinous venom? She can't call herself the same person after what she said. She knows its wrong to be such a hypocrite, yet she tells me what I'm doing wrong? I called her to share in my happiness and good, and all she can talk is trash. She says sheís my best friend, but she never calls; sheís always out with
and never bothers to see where I am. I can't believe what they just did; they've lost yet another friend.
Two more days, two more days till I see your face, your eyes, your smile. I wanted to see you tomorrow, but I just can't, and I know that sounds dumb, but there is something thatís holding me back. We talk so much on the phone, I feel like you know me so well. But I'm afraid if I let my heart take over; we would never be the same. My friends tell me you're not a good idea, but they're hypocrites anyways; they don't know you and I'm not so sure I want them to. Just wait two days.
I'm writing, but I don't know what to say. All the words are built up inside, waiting to be released, but I don't know how. I think the only way to do it to talk or write. This is the only way to figure things out, to decide the feeling in your head, and make sense of them. They're all screaming at the same time, telling your head and your heart what to do. But which voice is the one of reason, the one that will make the right decision, and tell you who your heart is destined to love.
I haven't written and it's making me itch. These words inside are waiting to be poured out onto something, anything. They can't be contained for too much longer or they'll scream; dying for that true salvation that only comes with the sweet release. These words might not make much sense, but someday, we will look back on those words and remember exactly how we felt. We will remember that day we wrote those words and think of how simple our lives used to be and without all the complicated madness; our lives are returned to normal and the perfect restored.
I don't know how it got this far; I always thought we were careful. I wish we had known what we felt before it escaladed. Now I'm left standing here, feeling all sorry and guilty; I wish I hadn't said those things, but I truly meant them. I think you did too, be you weren't vocal. The problem only grew over time, and now we're left standing alone on this corner, with time running out. When you first met me, it hadn't been this way, it was all serine; unlike the images we've left, the screaming agony, perish the thought.
The eyes are the windows to the soul, so why can't I see through yours? You look through me as if I'm not here, just an apparatus, waiting to vanish. You smile and laugh and pretend nothing's wrong, but I know you better than that. You're worried about something boy, but why you won't tell me is making me scared. Darling, I know what you're thinking, because I was thinking the same yesterday; but that's all in the past and we don't have to worry now. Tell me you worries, but please tell me now so the anxiety will stop.
This feeling inside in unexplainable; isn't this what I wanted? What I thought about for weeks and weeks, constantly wondering if you thought the same? But now I know you were, all along I thought I was alone with my feeling, and then you surprised me. But now I'm worried; is this what I really wanted, what I longed for and thought about forever? I don't want to hurt you, but you're moving too fast, and since this is all new I'm so unsure. I want to make sure all our feelings are in sync, and that we are sure.
I'm not sure if this will work out; I really want to try, but you're making it so hard. I feel as if my lungs will give out, but I can't stop screaming from this pain I've caused you. And I know you love me, which is why I know I'm secretly killing you inside. All those times we talked, and those restless, endless nights where we sat and stared; Iím so sorry for doing this to you. We never understood what we had, and we never thought about anything else; I just thought you knew I didn't love you.
This thing building up inside, it can't hide, and can't be denied. It stands so lonely, waiting to be invited inside, but it never will be. Itís always creeping, sneaking up on your mind. Never knowing when it will come or go, passing as it pleases, leaving behind invisible pleasures. It always seems to be something new, something unwanted, but it comes as the dawn breaks. And we begin our day as it was yesterday, waiting for the inevitable to come and hide; as I find it hard to concentrate with it standing over my shoulder, looking down upon me.
This insanity has won out; I tried to stay in the game, but she's too good. She knows all the tricks to deceive and the plays to fail. All the power invested in her from the time of birth is draining.Her childhood memories are of filth, but she's half a century old; shouldn't she move on by now? And the problem is that I could never stop loving her, she yells and demands like a commander in battle, but I know she means well. And in a few short years I'll be gone, and miss those days of unbearable manipulation.
Is this what you imagined, a life filled with doubt and sorrow? I never pictured it this way, I always thought you would take care of us, but now I'm not so sure. I want this feeling of sinking and drowning to go away. I want them to stop, but it can't be fixed. No one I know is going through this, only us. And now this wall has divided between you and her, making the fights unbearable and the screams like savage murder. I know what I have to do, but I don't know how long it will take.
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