this was a post i put in my livejournal a long long time ago (from may) i just read it again. and felt like posting it. i dont feel like this at this very moment. but alas.. i've been there. i'll be there again. as a side note, i'm reading "get me out of here" more psycho babble of a woman's life. 9 o clock comes too damn early. esp on a saturday.
<i>you've shown me the brighter colors of the darker days, and im searching within myself for the answers. confusion and off kilter as i lie recovering. from so many years and so many days of mistreatment. that i could never place my finger on. i still dont know if i have, or can. but when enough people tell you you're hurt. you start to maybe think its true. what is it. its that sucking chest wound again of a cave thats dark and cold and windy and hollow. im visualizing now. and i think of fight club and the searing pain. i cried again. sobbed. but softer this time so i wouldnt perchance cry loud enough for anyone else to know. just the fact that its such a great feeling to be able to sit in my bathtub and cry. to release some of it. some of the "unwantedness" what did it. im still confused as to what the fuck it is that im even trying to figure out. my fading in and out of being comfortable in my own skin has me baffled.
i've been broken down, and right now i'm destroyed. destryoed from the disease, from the cancer taunting me, with its ready to take over your soul position. i want to be hurt yes. but for entirely different reasons. i want to be owned. but for the same i want to be hurt. its my catharsis, its my pill, my drug, my completion because my souls too thin underneath all the pieces. even though it has developed itself a defense mechanism, for its own survival. but thats all its able to function from now. survival. oh by the way tonight, ive been doing shitty. or was doing well. but btwn the intensity of last night and my minute mishap at work, i was a pile on the floor again. completely. its gonna be awhile before an understanding has been reached. for i will always jump to conclusions about what i have implied of your words. if only because i dont hear you speak. as i look at my hand and want to know some answers. my mother, my lover, my sanity, the whore. i seek out salvation you bring me slavery, and left to my own devices im fighting my way out from the word manipulation that built my cage to your tender honest love that shows me the same. how can you atone for that which you must hate, but love all the same. maybe its not for the right reasons. maybe my hatred. is not for the right reasons. but all the wrong ones. tell me to do it. tell me to seperate the two. it cant be done. i cant be taught that. it seems you shouldnt be taught that. to separate pain from emotion. to separate emotions and sex. but im already sounding crazy. i dont know. im just really fucking confused. but nonetheless i feel better. fuck the motherfukcers that ever for a god damn motherfucking second imply that it not be a good thing to cry. that it be shameful. eat some fucking soap motherfuckers.
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p.s. i really dont think that's going to italicize
<i>you've shown me the brighter colors of the darker days, and im searching within myself for the answers. confusion and off kilter as i lie recovering. from so many years and so many days of mistreatment. that i could never place my finger on. i still dont know if i have, or can. but when enough people tell you you're hurt. you start to maybe think its true. what is it. its that sucking chest wound again of a cave thats dark and cold and windy and hollow. im visualizing now. and i think of fight club and the searing pain. i cried again. sobbed. but softer this time so i wouldnt perchance cry loud enough for anyone else to know. just the fact that its such a great feeling to be able to sit in my bathtub and cry. to release some of it. some of the "unwantedness" what did it. im still confused as to what the fuck it is that im even trying to figure out. my fading in and out of being comfortable in my own skin has me baffled.
i've been broken down, and right now i'm destroyed. destryoed from the disease, from the cancer taunting me, with its ready to take over your soul position. i want to be hurt yes. but for entirely different reasons. i want to be owned. but for the same i want to be hurt. its my catharsis, its my pill, my drug, my completion because my souls too thin underneath all the pieces. even though it has developed itself a defense mechanism, for its own survival. but thats all its able to function from now. survival. oh by the way tonight, ive been doing shitty. or was doing well. but btwn the intensity of last night and my minute mishap at work, i was a pile on the floor again. completely. its gonna be awhile before an understanding has been reached. for i will always jump to conclusions about what i have implied of your words. if only because i dont hear you speak. as i look at my hand and want to know some answers. my mother, my lover, my sanity, the whore. i seek out salvation you bring me slavery, and left to my own devices im fighting my way out from the word manipulation that built my cage to your tender honest love that shows me the same. how can you atone for that which you must hate, but love all the same. maybe its not for the right reasons. maybe my hatred. is not for the right reasons. but all the wrong ones. tell me to do it. tell me to seperate the two. it cant be done. i cant be taught that. it seems you shouldnt be taught that. to separate pain from emotion. to separate emotions and sex. but im already sounding crazy. i dont know. im just really fucking confused. but nonetheless i feel better. fuck the motherfukcers that ever for a god damn motherfucking second imply that it not be a good thing to cry. that it be shameful. eat some fucking soap motherfuckers.
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p.s. i really dont think that's going to italicize
did you write that? i realy like it alot....
=D
xoxoxo
katy