I empathize with Frankentiens monster
For my maker is also undeserving of my love
She is no angel from above
If she were just another person
She would have no respect
A hypocrite by definition
But yet, she gets the standing ovasion
This woman deserves an oscar
For Ive never seen such a convincing scene
The golden standard for a two face
Part Joan Crawford and part Norma Bates
Not as horrible, she plays a victim as if she were the late Ms Tate..
This woman lets her sons call me a whore
So far Ive had 3 concussions
But her sons never suffered any repercussions
Hell, she even let my cousin get away with pedophilia
The devil and the hellhouds
The witch and her deviants
The gas lighters
Ask them of my trauma and they would say
We gave all we could and did what we should, this child is undeserving and will never be any good
Thanks a lot ma, Merry Chritmas
i am angry because it feels like,
i am the only one who is still grieving over my losses.
i lost my first love,
and my best friend.
i was left with no one.
and while i was wallowing in the depth of my sadness,
you had turned glue out of your tears and started putting the pieces of yourself back together.
i am not angry because you are doing better now,
just angry because
i am not.
im angry because you have started to find yourself, but i am still stuck in between us and me.
One step forward,
two steps back.
Every day brings
of the things I lack.
My mind never quiets,
I can't take the feedback.
An eternal panic attack,
I should double the Prozac,
it's making a comeback.
One step forward,
two steps back.
don't tell me you are a fan of poetry
If you have only read "milk and honey"
don't utter you are deep
if you read the same poem painted in different words
how infuriating it is when popular girls pretend
when they don't know any:
and their tears cannot amass to that of the nile
their anxiety cannot stop them from breathing
when their brain doesn't scream into the abyss of self-hatred
so don't tell me you a fan of poetry
if your veins are not filled with the potent ink of your own pen
Fuck this whole.
I realize that there is more elegance and eloquence to vocabulary but right now the only works that can escape my lips are
Oh. And fuck you, too.
Sitting here sick
Sick and damn tired of this shit that life keeps throwing my way.
And I just deal with it...
Because I 'have to'.
Why the fuck do I 'have to' be here? I didn't chose this. I didn't ask to be alive, ask to be conscious. I don't want to be here. I don't want to do this. I don't want to wake up each day and breathe and live and work and cry and sleep.
I'll keep that one.
Its nice to sleep. There's nothing else to worry about. A sweet serene oasis of mine. A place where I don't answer to the shit of other people.
I give it back. All of it. It doesn't work right. It never did. It never will. People say that I should be happy for the things I have and I say to those people...
Fuck your standards of what I 'should' do or feel or know. Fuck your opinion on how I treat myself. Fuck your decision that my life is worth saving because so what. I don't want it. I return it. Take it back and give the whole thing to someone else who wants it.
But make sure you ask them first. Ask them if they want this life. Ask them if they desire to drudge through each day just to make it to the next. Ask them if they want the self-loathing, air of desecration that lingers all around me. Ask them if they'd love to know, everyday, what it feels like to have people NOT choose you over and over and over again. Because I'm sure, if you ask them ...
They'll want to return this life, too.
IF THIS WORLD WAS A BODY
this town would be the armpit
where girls wear highlighter
brighter than their god damn future
and for fuck sake
"WILL YOU GET OFF THAT COMPUTER"
if you pack in the moaning
i'd give up smoking
"CALL HIM AGAIN QUEER"
"AND I'LL SHOW YOU THE MEANING OF FEAR"
i don't want to be a parent who's failing
i'll stop whailing