Someone kill me
I don’t want to live anymore
Everything’s been taken away
Everything important anyway
June ’98
I’m tired of living my life
If I was someone else
Would it have the same ending?
So short, full of agony
Fourteen years and my life has been taken away
All of my friends and enemies
I knew them and could predict their every move
But now I’m left with nothing
People that don’t know me
Turn down their noses
People who have never seen me before
Look away as if I’m too hideous to e looked at
They don’t know me
I am the only one who knows the inside story
June ’98
Why live now?
My only love has been taken away
Only because my mom wasn’t happy
What about me?What About Daddy?
What about the happy family I was always promised?
June 14, 19978
A feeling of betrayal has swept over my body.
A feeling I have no proof of, but comes from a close source.
A source that I’m not close to anymore.
Far away from physically, spiritually, and emotionally.
I curse the man that first broke his promise.
To Hell with them and to Hell with their families
Whom they have already cursed for generations.
I’m not happy with her, my source of betrayal.
Everything comes for her good and benefit alone.
Nothing good comes for me, nothing beneficial.
I’m sick of being snubbed of what I feel I deserve.
Deprived of my own sanity and me being blamed for the way I am.
As if it’s my fault that I’m depressed.
Look at what she’s done to my life.
It’s been turned around and upside down not to mention
I’ve been lied to and I can tell because I’m no stupid.
I’m not blind, I can see right through everything she says.
I almost feel guilty about doubting her word.
But if you were lied to, wouldn’t you lose faith.
I feel betrayed because everything I do is wrong.
Yet everything she does is right no matter how similar the circumstances.
Why do we live?
Is it an urge to be alive?
Is it knowledge of the morrow?
Or maybe it’s the love for the one who’s there no matter what the circumstances.
That’s why I allow myself to live.
Why is the world so cruel?
Why is the world so cold?
Why are scientists making miracle drugs to make us live longer in the world we hate?
What is SEXY? Is it something to describe anarecsic bitches that can’t wear anything except for clothes designed for them by some person with a name Webster can’t pronounce, but doesn’t cover up what the censors have to? Be yourself and don’t let some designer that failed art in college.
He took it off.
The symbol of eternity.
He always said that the gold represented preciousness and the
Circle represented hopeless love.
I’ve never seen him without it.
So why isn’t it there?
Almost like a disappearing act.
An illusion too good to last forever.
I’m living in a time where the only thing important is presence.
Not quality or quantity, or who is better than who…
But who shows up everyday and sits on their ass.
I can do that: I’ts easty to sit in a rolly chair and file your nails.
To communicate with my friend and family and not do my work.
To take longer breaks thn nesscesary to satisfy my needs.
But what about us who are over looked???
Us who risk life and limb to save an object that was never alive to begin with.
The ones who work hard for nothing,
To be placed in an alternate positoin whether they need you or not.
I guess you can’t rreally predict anything about the future.
You either know it or you don’t.
And knowing takes time
You can’t just meditate like a pansy and wake up knowing Lottery numbers.
This stuff has to be knocked into you like with a baseball bat.
You have to learn it and practice it.
Are the voices in my head real?
If I tried hard enough, could I mive things with my mind?
Yellow flowers, white clouds, blues skies.
Only part of a dream away from reality.
Loud yelling, mental screaming, red eyes, broken glass, and heavy music.
The only life I know now.
Who is to say that we exist?
Isn’t it possible that we are all just a dream?
Couldn’t what we call death be life?
Couldn’t what we call life be death?
What does death feel like?
Is it a relief of sorts somewhat like your partner finishing her part of the project?
Or is it a sharp close pain like the one when you stood behid the fast moving swing?
Is it happy for the deceased?
Is it mournful as it is for the beloved left behind?
Who is our God?
Can we as humans actually believe in celestial beings?
In a thousand years, will our decendents look upon our Bible as we look upon Roman religion?
Who is to tell mewhat to believe, who to worship and how?
Doesn’t everyone have the right to choose for himself?
Isn’t that written in ink somewhere?
Don’t you find it funny how in the sonstitution it says we have the right to choose how we live,
But insociety, we are shunned for not believing as everyone else?
Don’t you want to know what death feels like?
But wouldn’t that mean dying?