I know. I know. Just fucking write something already. So depressed. So empty. So nothing. I know Im depressed because of my behavior, not because I feel it. And this is murder - feeling the pressure from this damnable journal to write. To dump. To tell it something. Hungry little snatch you are! Fuck you. Fuck me. Fuck all.
Usually that would feel kinda good. No feelings. Only knowledge of what must be done and trying to find the energy, even though it flows straight on through me, to do it. How to keep the flow for eight years? How? How? How? Pepsi. Thirsty. Body wants food. Its stomach rumbles.
Had a look around. Found some honey-roasted peanuts. Huh. Didnt know they actually put honey in these. I think peanuts aren't the worst thing I could feed the body. It wants chocolate. Why? Stupid skin sack; keep your wants to yourself!
~peanut break~
Theyre so messy... all that sugar. Maybe sugar will make it feel something other than nothing. Nervous. Excited. Something. Anything. Nothing is no way to be.
RAWR!!!! Not the curse of the blinking cursor AGAIN! Never! Fuck you. Fuck you. Fuck you. Just fucking fuck all and have done with me! Enough already, can't you see? Enough.
Looks so peaceful, no? All tied up and everywhere to float. Go sweet Ophelia. Be free. Be free like the me I wish to be. They say death is so final. Its just the beginning. Another time round and one after that. Unless I do it right this time.
Is that a halo above your sweet head? Guess what dear, suicides don't get halos... suicides don't go to heaven. There is a level of hell reserved for us... seven? Cant recall. But we do get to be bound. Bound by our love. Bound by our despair. Bound. That was a pretty good movie. Sexy. Hot. I remember thinking that. Bound. We get to live on the bottom of the sea. La mer. The ocean will gulp and suck us down.... My peaceful dream is of the earth. The reality is very different. No comfortable sliding into the welcoming bosom of the earth. Drowning. Drowning for lack of lust. For lack of love. For lack of hope. For lack of heart. For lack of energy. For lack of beauty. For the great emptiness that consumes me. Drowned for being nothing.
What is this, this face
So murderous in its strangle of branches? ----
That face. That is the face of the dead. The skin sack that won't die even though its soul has fled.
Thats enough, isn't it?
Usually that would feel kinda good. No feelings. Only knowledge of what must be done and trying to find the energy, even though it flows straight on through me, to do it. How to keep the flow for eight years? How? How? How? Pepsi. Thirsty. Body wants food. Its stomach rumbles.
Had a look around. Found some honey-roasted peanuts. Huh. Didnt know they actually put honey in these. I think peanuts aren't the worst thing I could feed the body. It wants chocolate. Why? Stupid skin sack; keep your wants to yourself!
~peanut break~
Theyre so messy... all that sugar. Maybe sugar will make it feel something other than nothing. Nervous. Excited. Something. Anything. Nothing is no way to be.
RAWR!!!! Not the curse of the blinking cursor AGAIN! Never! Fuck you. Fuck you. Fuck you. Just fucking fuck all and have done with me! Enough already, can't you see? Enough.
Looks so peaceful, no? All tied up and everywhere to float. Go sweet Ophelia. Be free. Be free like the me I wish to be. They say death is so final. Its just the beginning. Another time round and one after that. Unless I do it right this time.
Is that a halo above your sweet head? Guess what dear, suicides don't get halos... suicides don't go to heaven. There is a level of hell reserved for us... seven? Cant recall. But we do get to be bound. Bound by our love. Bound by our despair. Bound. That was a pretty good movie. Sexy. Hot. I remember thinking that. Bound. We get to live on the bottom of the sea. La mer. The ocean will gulp and suck us down.... My peaceful dream is of the earth. The reality is very different. No comfortable sliding into the welcoming bosom of the earth. Drowning. Drowning for lack of lust. For lack of love. For lack of hope. For lack of heart. For lack of energy. For lack of beauty. For the great emptiness that consumes me. Drowned for being nothing.
What is this, this face
So murderous in its strangle of branches? ----
That face. That is the face of the dead. The skin sack that won't die even though its soul has fled.
Thats enough, isn't it?
VIEW 7 of 7 COMMENTS
abyssia:
Thanks Yuri
childofhades:
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