I can't ******* sleep and it's all because of you.

I can't even shut my eyes without seeing your face. I feel as if I'm trapped in my own head, clawing at the inside of my skull until I wear my fingers down to the bone.  Why can't it ever be simple? Why can't it ever be easy? Why is it that every time I think I've stepped away from you, you sing a silent sirens song sending me sliding slowly down a slippery *****, serenading my cerebellum and sealing my soul in my chest.

I don't get it.

Why can't you just tell me you hate me.

It doesn't matter, look at me. Sitting here clutching onto you. Laying on my bathroom floor. I thought about replacing you with her. That's right I said it.

I want to replace you.

But she doesn't even realize.

So here we sit, again, me and you. A long night awake in the bathroom, with you sliding down my throat. You taste bitter with just the water I have to push you down. I've gotten to the point where I have to have you to sleep. Imagine that. Yet, when there's a body beside me, I no longer need you inside me. I can rest without you coursing though my veins.

Ive pretty much just excepted that you won't be replaced with her, or anyone, until I love myself more than you. God what a task. Loving myself.  Doesn't matter. Eventually someone will help me sleep.

But I guess it's just you and me.

Here I am surrounded by people I love
I feel as if I am not loved
I sit in the void of my mind as I stare into the eyes of someone who says "thanks for inviting me, it's been fun!"

My eyes scan their face

You're welcome.
I'm sorry.
I hope so.
I really hope so.

I finally found a group of people I love and I can't even enjoy it because I'm not sure they love me. Listen to me. Complaining about these beautiful people.

I just want to know where I stand. I want to know that if I fell down, I would have them to dust me off.

I don't know if they would want to. What reason to they have to pick me up. What reason do they have to be here. Why cant I just except it. Why can't I except that they love me.

They love me?

Love.

There it is. There's the problem.

It's early summer.

The green are full of the brightest greens and they're all very alive.

Alive. What a strange word

I woke up one morning

Actually I've woken up every morning including this one.

Next

Sometimes at night I sleep (that's also a joke)

When I look at you
You're beautiful.
Its when I look away that you're a ****** up mess.

Sometimes when I'm sad, I name all of my greatest accomplishments. I dont mean to brag or anything but I was born so hard. They even gave me a certificate for it.

I love getting drunk and leaving myself letters, I found one the other day and it said "help me. I want to die so bad. I drink because maybe one day my heart will pump exclusively alcohol and my brain will shrivel and die, taking all these ****** up thoughts with them" what a prankster.

No but seriously, have you ever thought a guy was cute. Not in like a "I would totally **** David Beckham"  sort of way but like, nice face bro. No ****, amiright?

Shout out to all my friends. You guys actually find me amusing sometimes. That's impressive. I'm an alcoholic because I listen to my own jokes

I like telling people a joke and then when they laugh I say something funnier to follow up like "making other people laugh is the only reason I have Kurt cobained myself".

I mean come on. What is pain without humor. Sometimes it's nice to take a break. Being so deep can really hurt you, but you don't have to worry about that because I'm small.

Thank you.

I wish I didn't hate myself

I wish I didn't start rewriting my name as "nothing".

I want to feel. Anything. I try so hard to feel. I put my heart out, I tear it from my rib cage and present each separate ventricle. Why do you look away when I get to the aorta. Why doesn't my blood stain things pink so it looks good enough to wear again. Why do these pills get stuck in my throat like ***** of nails. Why won't you look at me, I don't care if you're my reflection, why won't you look at me.

I wish.

I wish I had someone that would watch the black tar seep from my hands onto a page, and wipe away the silent tears.

I wish I didn't have to slit my throat over a notebook for someone to see that im stuck. I'm stuck and all I want it your help.

I wish I didn't have to **** myself to get it.

When I first saw her

She was standing over me, like a worn statue of Aphrodite. She radiated beauty and power and her skin glistened like a lake reflecting the fragile moonlight

When I first saw her, she was wearing an asking Alexandria t shirt, a beacon of individuality in a copy and paste status quo of basketball shorts and loaded guns aimed at the weak.

When I first saw her, I was laying on the ground looking up. I was halfway through the word help, she was halfway through the word stop.

I was 13. Kids a few years older and twice my size held me by my throat and I choked on the gasoline bile boiling up from my stomach.

After she broke a few knuckles, she dusted me off.

When I first saw her, she said, youre kind of a loser, but I like you.




When I last saw her, I bent over the casket to kiss her cheek. The bruises on her neck and cuts in her wrists still hid behind the make up and I wouldve have seen them regardless of the caskets opening. I had this childlike dream that a tear would seep through her chest and water her soul enough to regrow and shed once again beam that beautiful smile that cut through the fog of life. I stood over her like a mournful tower, codemned to not move from its place. "Youre kind of a loser, but I love you"

We all make mistakes.
I ****** up