How? How are you able to understand everything I'm feeling. I give you no information and yet you are still able to see through me. How the hell are you able to look past my smile? You understand that you are my last chance at getting fixed. You know how dead I am inside, and yet you still try to help. I don't understand you. I don't. But sure as hell want to spend the rest of my life with you.

What wouldn't I do for you?
I wouldn't catch a grenade for you.
I wouldn't take a bullet for you.
I wouldn't walk a mile for you.
I wouldn't swim an ocean for you.
I wouldn't spend every cent I'd have for you.
I wouldn't pluck the moon from the night sky for you.
No. I wouldn't. Why would I waste my time trying to prove how much I love you through meaningless actions?
I will wake up next to you every morning.
I will always think you're the most beautiful thing I've ever seen.
I will give you every piece of me.
I will give you my life.
I will give you my heart.
I will give you my love.
I wouldn't complete some insurmountable task to prove to you that you mean everything to me. Because you should already believe me, when I tell you I love you. There is nothing I would do for you. I will do anything for you.

I sway from side to side. Floating, hovering above the ground. My heart beat is starting to slow down. My vision fades subtly. My eyes feel like they're going to pop out of my head. The cold leather coiled around my throat, starts to chafe my skin. No feeling of air inside my lungs. Not breathing feels comfortable, it feels right. It feels peaceful. My mind casually slips away from me. Sweet serenity graces me with a final kiss I've been waiting for. Black. Everything is so fuzzy, and so shifty. I can't see straight. I collect the fragments of my mind. Above me hangs the remains of my neuse, frayed and torn. I lay on the floor. Unbelieving at this sight. This attempt has failed. Hopefully the next won't.

Wow. For once I feel hate for someone who doesn't live inside my head. You disgrace to humanity. She tells me that she can't be love because of you. You have scarred her, you have hurt her. All of you have. You tore her apart and when she had nothing left to give, you left her. Because you told her you loved her, then left her alone, she doesn't believe me when I say it. She actually trusted you. Now she thinks I'm lying whenever I tell her I love her, she thinks I'm delusional because I want to spend every last moment I have here with her. She thinks all I want to do is use her and leave her. She hurts herself because, because pain is the only thing that makes her feel comfortable. It's because of you. If I ever find you. I won't hold back. I'm psychotic, I love it when I can hurt someone. And you've given me one hell of a reason to.

Laying in bed. Starring at the ceiling. Each beat of my heart is a thunder crack inside my head. I can feel the blood pumping through my eye, even though I can't see out of it. The swelling has half blinded me. My face, numb yet I can taste the blood filling my mouth. My knuckles, possibly the only pain I can feel. Cracked and bleeding. This isn't enough pain for what I've done. But I can barely lift my own fist. Slowly fading. This is too familiar. I don't deserve this pain. I deserve so much more, I deserve to be hurt so badly there is no healing. No coming back. I need to be hurt more. Or else She'll never feel safe.

What was once numb. Now feels the soft embrace of an angel. That which heals all scares and wounds. Eyes that were blinded by tears and blood, now gaze into a beauty that could only be described as a horizon of supernovas reflecting above an emerald tinted ocean. Ears tormented by the ridicule and screams of those superior, suddenly serenaded by a voice so soft and comforting it was as if peace in its purest form was speaking. Lips, the same that would spout Black blood and nonsense, are now sealed, in the warm lock of another pair. A mind clouded by hatred and insanity, is overflowing, filled with thoughts and feelings just waiting to be portrayed through actions and meticulously planned sentences. All concluding with the same three words,
"I love you".
A pulse, beating inside, a heart. For once, no feeling of anger, or depression. Just happiness, just love. Just her.

You are my everything. My heart and soul is yours forever. Such a cliché. How about, my broken black corrupted soul is yours to do whatever you want with. My deranged perverted enigma of a mind is yours to spit on or kiss. You can't break me.

You know. I always thought I belonged on a neuse. Or I believed I should have been killing someone. But. Now. Everything's changed. My life and perspective have been flipped up right. I know where I belong now. I belong next to you. Beside you. Always. I know I'm basically speaking in clichés, so I'll try to sound more original. For once in my life I'd rather hold someone than tear them limb from limb. I want to kiss and not bite. I want to love. And not fight.

I want to find someone who understands. I want someone who knows what it's like to feel crowded when alone. Who can always feel the conflict within. Someone that has their own worst enemies shoved inside the same box as them. Someone who understands the feeling of ending your life not out of self pity, or an injustice in life, but ending it to save other people from yourself. I want to meet someone who embraces the reality of being insane, instead of denying it. I want someone who knows to put me in my place when I change. I need someone who understands.

I'm sorry I did such horrible things to you. I'm sorry I didn't ask you if you wanted me to do them. I'm sorry I didn't stop. I'm sorry I took advantage of you. I'm sorry I am this way. I'm sorry you had to go through this. I'm sorry I hurt you. I'm sorry I broke your trust. I'm sorry I scared you. I'm sorry I scarred you. I'm sorry I broke my promise. I'm sorry I touched you. I'm sorry I met you. I'm sorry I didn't end it before we met. I'm sorry I didn't control myself. I'm sorry I pressured you. I'm sorry I forced you. I'm sorry I said I loved you. I'm sorry I still love you. I'm so sorry,I am sorry that I'm still here. I'm sorry I made you think I was worth it. I'm sorry I put so much pressure on you. I'm sorry that I still care about you. I'm sorry you don't hate me. I'm sorry I won't let you go. I'm sorry I attacked you.  I'm sorry it seems like I used you. I'm sorry for the tears and embarrassment I caused. I'm sorry I didn't stop.

There is nothing worse than what I've done. I am the lowest a person can sink. I know this for sure now, because when the person who loved you more than anyone else and who actually cared about you tells you that you are the worst person, you need to believe it. I made excuses, I told lies, I was a coward, and none of it matters anymore. I could talk about how I feel right now, but it wouldn't change anything, it doesn't matter. I don't matter anymore. But there really is no where for me to go right now but up, I need to change everything about me. I destroyed her worse than anyone else, but who cares what I say. Or how I feel. She doesn't love me. She doesn't care about me. And she has no reason to love or care.

A soldier, a poet, and a genius. These three carved the paths that their children's ideas must be shaped by. A soldier, through war and horror, through pain a suffering through struggle and ****** his path was one of humor, and this path showed that no matter what ailment it was laughter could heal it. A poet, running miles and miles more than the great messenger who ran the original marathon could ever run so much distance that he is able to see life through a different perspective, his path is one of love and adventure,  always surprising. A genius, the last of the three greats now lies broken, a mind so brilliant it knows how to accept his inevitable demise, his path is one of honesty, chasing the wind, and acceptance, he leaves behind all of his great life's work for his child. And his child's ideas. For he knows, though it is the end of his genius, it's only the spark of his child's.

The suffocating feeling, as the frayed hairs of the rope burns my skin. Thinking that I have taken my last breath. No struggle, no regret, no remorse, and worst of all... The feeling of fulfillment, the serenity of calming beatless peace. Sight, slowly becoming more and more blurry as it slips away. Speech, unable to scream or cry or even whisper, and accepting it. Silence, the overwhelming negative space that fills my ears with the unrelenting nothingness. Feeling, what was once numb, now pulsing, fighting a battle I have already given up on. Then, consciousness itself is lost in the limbo of mine own meaningless hell. Insanity has beaten down reason, and logic delivered the final fatal blow. No more struggle, no more feeling, no more reason. No more me. And good riddance.

Face down on the hard concrete, a puddle of blood carries my reflection, as usual. Can't see anything, eyes blinded by tears. Have to get back up, have to finish what id started. My arms disobey my commands to pick myself back up, sore and disabled. **** my head back, kneeling before my superiors. Blinking to clear the tears. Starting to see a figure towering over me. Laying flat on my back, my head pounding. Getting lifted against a wall. Sadness overtakes me. No. Not sadness. Anger. No. Rage. Hate. Insanity. Ripping his skin. He doesn't need all of it. Just a little bit. Screaming. Horrible screaming. Cries for help. Laughing. Break. Crackle. Bone and cartilage grinding. Snapping in between my fingers. He doesn't deserve both of his ears. Black. Silence. Satisfaction. Regret. I'm a monster. Yeah, I am. And I love it.