I feel

so numb and so dumb.
















I have nothing to say i feel.....

You'll think of me.

While I am living a very successful life doing things that I love and feeling good, you will be drinking your selfish, foolish, and childish life away. It's okay.
I am calm, you are not. I am at peace. Though my heart is shattered into a million tiny tiny pieces, and will remain this way until we meet again, I am moving forward. I am making progress.

I always wonder why I'm here. I always think too much. Sometimes I get really scared, and start to think that nothing is real. I'm scared of death. But even more I'm scared of life. It feels fake. Everything feels fake. I don't want to get old. Only with you. Only you..

I will not forget you, I will not. I will love you. And I will miss you. I do miss you. I think about you. But not every second. A lot, still. When I dance, I dance not for you, not for my parents, not for Heather. For me. I give it everything. I think of you. And all of the love I have for you. All of the passion I feel for you. And I throw it into every move I make, every emotion I have...I show it, all. I feel it. I feel all of it. And it hurts, it hurts so bad. But it feels so good. I don't remember the last time I cried myself to sleep. But I hope you do every night. I hope you wish you weren't such a damn fool. I hope you grow up someday. And I hope you hate every second of every day. I hope it hurts like hell. It will soon. It will. I wonder if you hate yourself for making me love myself. I wonder if you hate that the reason I'm so strong is because you hurt me so bad. Maybe you cry in the shower every day, thinking of how good I always was to you. And how you treated me so horribly. Like some stupid little girl. Oh don't get me wrong, I love you, so much. I'm better now. Not all the way. I'm getting there.
I can make you so happy.. just wait. You'll be sorry...


I'm sick. Of course. I'm always sick. But my throat, it hurts. I will go eat some soup.

I

hate you

ALL of you.

Stupid boy...

Well, she was precious like a flower
She grew wild, wild but innocent
A perfect prayer in a desperate hour
She was everything beautiful and different...


I laid my heart and soul right in your hands
And you stole my every dream and you crushed my plans...

Stupid boy.

You always had to be right but now you've lost the only thing that ever made you feel alive.


I hate you, I love you. I'm sorry. I hope you're sorry, I wish you were sorry. But I know you're not.

It's

this town. It makes people sick. It makes me sick. I want to leave. I want to be somewhere else. I want to be with you. I want you to hold me. I want you to tell me it's going to be okay. Make one promise to me that you can keep. One promise that means something to both of us. Please?

Something Beautiful?

She brought this upon herself. As She always seems to do. This wave of pain that has been drowning her. She just loves it. She begs for more.

She wants to be this amazing and beautiful person, that she just wasn't made to be. Her dreams are too big. She hope for peace, and love. She'll never have it. It will never come. She's been torn from her everything. All her hope is drown, lost, dead at the bottom of this ocean of sorrow. This ocean of iniquity that She has created.

She searches and searches. She searches everywhere for something to ease her pain with. Cut her open, search for something of worth. One part of her maybe? Something inside of her, by cause of nothing being on the outside. Something inside may be beautiful? Just look. Rip her open, search deep.

She is starving. Starving for attention. Starving to feel something. Nothing is good enough for her, being so vile.

She is bleeding, She is dying. Don't save her. Please don't save her. She's thirsty for more of this pain. She's so sick, She's so poor. Give her something.

So bloodthirsty she lay there, screaming out to anyone who will listen. Anyone who will care. The pain in her voice so agonizing. Somebody love me, she cries.

I have nothing, she says. She cries. Everything has been taken from me. Everything has left me. I am so depraved. Hurt me, I'll hurt myself. Leave me alone.

She wants to be alone. She wants to hurt. She likes to hurt. Nobody understands.

Write.

What to write. I don't know what to write..
I want to write. I need to write. I feel really sick, I feel really hurt. I feel so numb. I feel very cold. And for the first time in a long time, I feel really alone. I feel useless and worthless and wasteful and stupid. I feel ugly, I feel mean. I am tired; I am tired of feeling sick. I am tired of feeling ugly. I'm tired of not being able to breathe. My chest is tight, my lungs are weak. My stomach is empty, and sore. My heart is tired, and broken. I am worn out. My body is weak. I feel unwanted. I am tired of feeling unwanted. I am used to feeling unwanted. I thought I could not feel any more hurt than I feel every day. And every night. I was wrong. I am always wrong. I am so hurt. I am so thirsty. Thirsty for love, for comfort. For something. I am starving to feel important to somebody. I am starving myself every day. My mind, and my heart is bulimic. I take so much in at a time, and force myself to throw it away, to throw it all out at the end of the day. I am full of resent. I am full of pain. I feel so many things.. So many things that nobody should have to feel. But I feel them every day. I feel them every night. My heart physically aches. I long for a feeling of belonging. My heart, my mind, and my body long for a feeling of want, comfort, love, and importance. I long, I so do long to feel beautiful. To be beautiful. To someone, to everyone. More so to myself. I long to love me. To love myself. I prey on my own thoughts, when I think for one second that I look pretty. That I am smart. That I am funny. Or nice. I chew up the words, and the thoughts as soon as they encounter my mind. Thoughts of my ugly, annoying self fill up my mind, and brutally beat any good feelings toward myself I may have for even a split second. I cannot feel any worth. I become addicted to anything and anyone that gives me a feeling of comfort or warmth. That makes me forget about my hate for my ailing self. I no longer seek help for I am becoming addicted to my own pain and complications.