Yes, I'm okay.
No I'm not.

Yes, I'm just really tired.
No, I'm tired of living.

Yes, everything is fine.
No, my world is crashing down around me.

Yes, I'll be fine
No, you'll be lucky to see clean wrists tomorrow.

Yes, I've been eating.
No, I haven't eaten, when I do, I throw it back up in disgust.

Yes, I feel confident.
No, I just wish I was perfect.

Yes, I'm fine being alone.
No, I just want somebody to love me...

Yes, I'm telling the truth*
No, I'm telling the truth.

Study what came before.
Create what comes after.

People stopped asking me how I feel, simply because I think that they already knew the answer and they didn’t want to bother with repetition. I turned into a page in a book. Only looked at when needed, only read when I’m wanted. Then I’m put back on the shelf. I feel like people forget about me. That I sort of just fade into the background, because I’m just always there. I am the fly on the wall. Swatted away, and forgotten. There is no real dedication to my existence. Just moments of clarity, and then they go blind again. No matter what it is I am I feel like people stopped caring about me. Maybe it is in a selfish way or maybe it is because I became good at hiding my feelings. I feel like the stars in the night sky. Millions and millions of light years away, and I disappear before anyone acknowledges me.

You told me you wanted me.
But you already had her.
You told me you needed me.
But it was obvious you needed her more.
You told me you wished I was there with you more than anything.
But she was already there.
You told me I meant the world to you.
But she was your whole world.
You told me you were in love with my eyes.
But you were lost in hers.
You told me you wanted to kiss me.
But her saliva was already on your tongue.
You told me you loved me.
But you were in love with her.


                                B.S.

Beating drums
Howling wolves

It's midnight
The ceremony is about to begin



My death ceremony