I hated the way my life was. I couldn't find a place to relax my mind. I forced myself to be someone I wasn't. My mind would never stop thinking, About how fake I was. "I am your clay. Mold me how you'd like." It's a curse. I am cursed. My boyfriends death assured me. But why did he have to suffer? Why did I have to watch him slowly die? So slow. So painful. So much pain... Too much... People can only handle so much. And me, less. I am not stronger- I'm no longer surprised. I didn't know how to get away. I needed to LEAVE... To take it out... To peal it off... Across the street, across the world, wasn't enough. I was broken. I was being torn apart Little by little, Day by day. The crying never stopped. There's no place to hide from myself... I'd crawl up in my closet, lay there for hours. My family resorted to calling me crazy. What a conclusion! Go to a hospital? A hospital has no closets! No place to hide! Idiots... Thus grew my hate and anger. My own mind became a curse. My brain would no longer allow me to move. My breath was painful. My thoughts were electric. Even my tears turned to stone. My frustration was easily sparked. "Humankind has taken life itself out of context! I know I am normal, dammit! YOUR the one who needs help! Not me... I am just your accessory. Your toy. Just skin, blood, and bones. This world is a black hole. There is NO chance of recovery." Every night I cry. I cry because I despise the day. The day comes with life, life that I feel like I no long have. That color of my skin has grown cold. I am no longer sun kissed, but have tinted of the moon. And my eyes shine with a hint of red. I have no responses to these comments people so "worriedly" speak. I hide, I embrace the night, Because that's when I'm alone. It's so quiet. That's when I'm aloud to be crazy.
Reason for writing:
Pain. Abuse. Bipolar Disorder. Grief. Depression. All that good stuff.
Birth sign: Aries
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