Ruby red lips.
Tear soaked cheeks.
Makeup smeared eyes.
Messy hair curtaining down.

No new reasons.
Just a broken heart that has never healed.
No new problem to be added to the list.
Just a list of problems that has yet been solved.
Breaks unable to mend.

I'm drowning in my own self loathing.
Dying in hatred.
Hatred of all my choices.
Including the choices I make to cope.

With my ruby red lips.
Tear soaked cheeks.
Makeup smeared eyes.
Messy hair curtaining down.

The wish of a bottle pressed to my lips.
The wish of a blade pressed to my skin.
The wish of a cigarette in my hand.
The wish of a pill resting on my tongue.
The wish to forget what it is I'm doing.

What I have done.
****...
What have I done?

I'm an artist in many ways.
I use a pen.
I use paint.
I use canvas.
I use a blade.
I use my body.
My masterpiece sometimes drips down my legs.
As I play tic tac toe on my thigh.

Why is the sight of blood dripping down my thigh so appealing?
Why do I love the burning of alcohol so much?
Why does a bottle of pills make me smile?
Why do I adore having a hazed mind.
Why does smoke flowing around me excite me?
Why are these habits so bad...
If they make me feel alive?
If they make me calm?
If they help me cope?

It's 3:36 am
I'm laying outside.
There's a half moon and stars scattered on a dark canvas above me.
Smoke rising in the air as I take another drag of what will invaitcably **** me.
I just can't help but wondering...
Will this winter be different?
Will the rest of my life be different?
Somehow am I going to let go of my destruction of a path?
Can I be the person I want to be.
Will I succeed?
Or...
Am I going to spiral back down into the darkness?
Like all the times before?

I have an overwhelming feeling to disappear.
However, not permenantly.
I want to drop all communication.
All socialization.
Until I'm not so scared.
I always disappear when I feel unwanted.
Then I come back once I've come to my sense.
I run away from my problems.
There's my confession of the day.
I run away.
I so terribly want to run.
Though I know that unwise.
I spiral into even darker mindsets when I'm alone.
I barely survive when I'm alone.
So why does disappearing...
Why does running...
Why does being alone sound so amazing?

When you spend so much time with fake smiles being displayed...
The real smiles begin to look like the fake ones.
That's the truly sad part about life.