rippedandtwisted

ugh, I hate this sickly sweet depression feeling sinking its teeth into my intestines. Its a gloomy day out, not quite raining but pleadingly threatening to do so. I am beginning to hate this placid disease of ennui. How so very easy it is to be distracted when trying to look yourself in the eye! How very The Army Corps of Architects of me. Where do you go when you've misplaced your core being? That little spark that laughs in your face at times like these? Just to keep your self-pity in check? Where are your ideals of self-destructivism now? Just to remind you that anything and everything you need is right around the corner if only you can get off your lazy ass and get there...
So what do you do? Make the effort? No way! Escapism is a way of life so you just sit there and wait; submersed in memories, riding out the crushing weight of the soul, staring at the past dancing by your bedroom window. Caressing the hurt, kneading it into the soil, allowing it to breathe it's life into the echos of new emotions. New emotions which allow you to resume that sardonic, sadistic smile as worlds fade away as others are born again.
How fucking emo trashy is that?