Being who I am I get obsessive. I get paranoid. I get utterly, shamefully, afraid. I lie. I lie a lot, even when I don't mean to or even when I don't realize it. The moods are like different people taking the reins, and they hardly acknowledge one another's actions. Happiness can do  thousand wonderful things that sadness will never remember. Mania will think a thousand thoughts stability can never fathom even pondering.

But I guess I'm getting off track. This isn't a movie about my head. Its a tale about my drugs, my loves, and my heart.

Its funny, trading drugs that stop you from suicide to drugs that stop your body from doing just that, but this time without your permission. At least let me say its ok before self-destructing, systems. Have some common decency before sinking the ship.

Even funnier, though, is now that my lungs stopped trying to **** me, my head totally decided it was time to take that title back for itself. Funniest has to be, though, is that my worst drugs aren't even the ones I pump into my bloodstream.

With the mood meds, I also stopped taking creativity and honesty and responsibility and ambition. Goodness has it been a messy den of deception I've been nesting in for the past month. This is the first time I've really written clearly what I've been thinking since I thought I was dying. Oh, sure, there was the one time I stopped breathing, but if I wasn't breathing I obviously thought I was still dying.

I guess its really today when I take a step outside my own vanity project and look at the mess I've made. I've done nothing, been nothing, but utter horror since I got out of that hospital. I've been a terrible girlfriend, student, daughter, and friend this entire time. I shut myself away, only exposing myself to those who I had to as to not raise suspicion. Hell, I've basically acted like a class act villain, hiding away in my lair plotting and thinking while ultimately accomplishing nothing. That's what villains do, right? Lonely, misunderstood, ultimately alone people who do not see the light the way the rest of society does ultimately never win, don't they?

I was someone, months ago. I had dreams, I had friends, I had a life. Now all I have is the shadows of my family and a boyfriend who I have done nothing to deserve this past month. But I guess the darkness has gobbled me up like a yummy cake and left me an ugly, unlikable crumb of my former self.

Time to **** it the **** up. Everything hurts, everything's broken, everything;s wrong. I don't have my drugs. I don't have the endless love I once had in my heart. I'm not the girl who once spent every day with her friends, called her mom three times a week, always excelled in class, and cried when she had to let it go.

Be honest with yourself, Grace. The true thing that's killing you is that you are empty. You do not care. You worry about your lies for the self-preservation tactic of not getting caught being the bad guy, but you are. You don't know if its a mental coping mechanism to deal with the torrential emotions or a survival tactic or for the sick selfishness of not wanting to feel anymore. You feign it, affection and love, but you can only muster it out in goofiness and weak "I love you"s.

Go back to your drugs, little girl. You're only strong with a security blanket. Otherwise you're a bitter ***** with a talent for lying. Get your mood stabilizers and your expressions and your friends and your hope back. Cynicism cannot keep them from you forever, unless it truly wants to **** you.

But that would ruin the lies of how fine you are, wouldn't it?

Make it ok, make your heart ok, and finally then it will be ok to lie just a little bit, maybe just to protect yourself from realizing this heartlessness, this period of nothing, was actually real. Go back to Wonderland, Grace. It missed you.

Maybe just as much as you missed it.

Lucy turned into a wicked witch
Now she wears a black gown and holds a silver stick
Goodness wasn't working out well
So she closed her heart in a seashell
Threw it into a dark sea and made a wish silently
To be selfish and unkind and to stop feeling finally
But she wasn't like this before
World has done something to her for sure

Her soul is blind
As her body is imperfect
Her stretch marks were written in coded language
She’s so pure that she’s toxic.
Braille:
Only passionate readers understood her vibe…her stories.
Written in coded language of cracked walls and extorted minds
You know... Extorted minds.
Extorted the way we extort morphine to coke fiends
Cracked walls. Matching the cracked walls of our unity.
Can you read her?
Can you, dig deep and fill a human being with that
Refreshing feeling we should all get after engaging in a
Dope *** intellectual conversation.
Read her, fluently.
Intelligence is so attractive.
But…after talking for hours it’s apparent that your mind is shallow.
I don’t know what’s left to do.
Tell me…How long has it been since someone has touched you entirely
Without having to actually touch you?
How long has it been since you’ve silenced your mind?
& let your mind be where it already is.
Leave it alone. It’ll quiet itself.
Her soul is blind.
Her mind is hungry.
Seeking the unknown.
Deep in the depths of what doesn’t need to be retrieved.
She wonders how far tomorrow is.
Today is an illusion.
She is not worried.
Her soul is blind.

You are a victim.
A victim of your vices
giving into everything that entices.
That leaves your heart
colder than ice is.
Your actions are the worst,
but I can't blame you.
You are just a victim.
A victim of the thirst.

Your flesh is weak
but you know that.
You can't help yourself
So you don't fall back.
No attention at home
Makes you feel all alone
and your soul is crying
for some contact.
So you scroll through
all of your contacts.
Wondering who just might
call you back
As your mind paces
back and forward.
The thirst begins
to call on you
and that is when
you follow through.

You have fallen.
You have fallen.
You have fallen victim.
Victim to the thirst
and with all of your worth
you have become
the worst.

The thirst of lust.
The thirst of lust
and the sin of vanity
has influenced
Your latest calamity.
That will become the cancer
that will eat away
at your very sanity.
Until all you have left
Is the thought
of your conformity
to the community
of the heartless.
Body, mind, soul,
Bound by your effects causes.

You are a victim.
A victim of your vices
giving into everything that entices.
That leaves your heart
colder than ice is.
Your actions are the worst,
but I can't blame you.
You are just a victim.
A victim of the thirst.
and with all of your worth
you have become the worst.

Come to your senses and keep your distance
How you do it - is entirely your piece of cake
At all times wear a long, pale face around me
Do not as much as smile at my birman kittens

They can't stand your sight or the likes of you
It's unthinkable how I put up with you these years
Said you'll be there for me when you actually mean
You will never come an inch close to my street  

Now, the storm is over or so you thought
Like the wretched dog you are - shamelessly
You crawl your way unto my doorstep, with the
Hope I'd throw myself at you for all its worth

I rather get drown in the middle of nowhere
Than to stand the pathetic sight of you anywhere

I wanna punch walls
And throw glass
And curse all the curse words

Yet I stay still and quiet.

Being loved is a weight that bends my bones.
And it's only a matter of time until I'm broken.
To be loved means worry
And I can't have you worrying about me.
Until my bones heal, I cannot reciprocate your love.

Give me something to start with
Make it of things I can't part with
Please don't forget
Or you will regret
That the love that we had has departed
so hold fast my Hand
this wasn't the plan
The way that it ended was heartless