I am a mess

I am impulsive

I am obsessive

I am fake

I am a liar

I am neurotic

I am Insecure

I am ugly

I am as intelligent as I try to be

I don't try enough

I am lazy

I am annoying

I am imposing

I am assuming

I am afraid to know what others really think of me

I know what I think of myself

I don't know who I am

I am ashamed of my body

I am ashamed of my skin

I am ashamed

I am weak

I do not believe in myself

I do not follow through

I hate who I am

I don't love enough

I am not as caring as I should be

I am selfish

I am afraid of being alone

I am too distant

I don't use my time wisely

I am indecisive

I am not competitive

I am manipulative

I am an addict

I don't like being told not to do something

I am disgusting

I am overly critical

I am judgemental

My eyes blink
with every
tic
the hands
of a clock
toc
giving me
a new perspective
of
you
every... time

Dear Self,
The steps I take towards finding out who you are,
Are a little shakey.
I cannot figure out what it is that is dragging me to the depths of hell that I call,
My thoughts.
Sometimes in the middle of the night, I question when your soul would evacuate its home and soar through the sky.
Self, you're so fragile, it tears me apart looking at you.
Self, how can I save you?
How is it that you're so numb to almost everything?
How am I supposed to feel when you're so caught up in your own world to notice the one beneath your feet?
Self, I am losing you and I can't figure out how to bring you back.
Maybe this is how I become my real self;
The unforgiving,
Doesn't give a flying ****,
Resting ***** face,
Self.
I think I'd like that,
But then again,
I think I'd rather stay true to who I really am,
Than become a stereotypical woman that basis her life on the hate she perserved.

Dear Nial,
Your claws sank into my sink and for a minute,
I experienced pain in the form of sharp needles piercing my insides,
And then,
Blank.

I felt nothing.
The world was burning to the ground and I stood there watching.
I couldn't move my feet, regardless of the weightlessness.
For the first time in a long time, my heart didn't trip over itself and make a run for the nearest exit.
It just stood there, pounding,
Waiting for me to make a move.
And I didn't.
I allowed the world to go by, to poor gasoline all over itself,
And set the fires into flames.
I could care less whether they reached out and turned me to ashes or if I was the only one to make it out alive.
I just didn't care.
I wanted to separate myself from the world because,
The world did everything it possibly could to drown you and I wasn't willing to die like that.
I wanted to move yet everyone and everything kept placing me back into a pit of suffocation and anguish.
I wanted out,
And if it was with me standing still watching as death claimed the souls of everyone around me,
Then so be it.
At least,
All I'll feel is nothing,
Empty,
Hollow,
Void.


Yours truly,
Angel

Dear Luke,
You have become lukewarm, almost unresponsive.
I would ask you to leave but I'm afraid you're no longer wanted, elsewhere.
Your presence has become indifferent.
You have caused a feeling of emptiness that dances within me on lonely nights.
You have caused a shift between wanting the world and wanting nothing to do with it.  
You have caused riptides in the sea found inside of me,
I am afraid I'll soon flood and later,
I will be void,
No matter how many people approach me with You filling their insides, I'll kindly, gently, passionately push them away and ask them to never come back again.
I ask you to rip whatever voice that screams and calls for you in the middle of the night.
I am so sick of wanting some form of you.
I'd like to imagine that someday my significant other and I,
Would have you brimming within us and reminding us of the good that is still found on earth, yet for now,
I want to forget you.
I want to be so numb that even your flames burning my skin,
Cannot cause me to blink in fear, disgust, and pain.
Please leave.
Leave and don't come back because I am so tired of mending wounds that are far too big for any of the bandaids I possess.

Hate,
Angel.