Broken.

Can’t stand it. Can’t stand it.  Why don’t you answer?  Why are you always always unavailable when I need you?  I don’t need your advice or an ear for listening, I just need you.  You’re just as crazy as me and while you don’t always get me, you always get this. 

I’m at my breaking point.  Implode or explode.  One or the other.  Either way, I’ll let them all down again.  Be the screw up again.  If I could just not be me I would.  I don’t know how.  I suppress it as much as I can.  If I could I’d go away where you could just pretend everything’s fine and be happy and not have to deal with me.  I know I’m a disappointment.  I know you want to fix broken, damaged, misguided me.  Blaming yourself, blaming me, loving me, hating me, wishing I was different, angry that I’m not different. 

Broken. Broken. Broken.  Did you break me?  Did I break me?  When did I break?  Was I always broken?  Should’ve just given me back.  Shouldn’t have had me in the first place.  I’m not like him.  I can only be me.  Always, always.  Chest hurts.  Head hurts.  Screaming. Screaming.  Always screaming.  I wish you would hurt me.  Hate me.  Why do you love me?  Staring at me with those stupid eyes.  I hurt you.  Being me hurts you.  Makes you cry.  Makes you bleed inside.  Hate me.  If you hate me, it would be easier.  Maybe for you, maybe for me.  Talking, talking.  Whispers and stares like I don’t know it’s me.  I watch you two.  I’m not allowed in.  I ruin it.  Make it sad.  That’s why you sound so angry.  I should disappear.  I see it.  “What? What do you want?” just sounds like “get away. Get the hell away.”  What should I do?  I have nowhere to go.  Nobody wants me.  Not me.  Not this.  Who would?  Who could?  Empty, empty.  Pain, pain.  Fear, fear. Hate me. Hurt me.  I’ll never say a word.

I don’t want you.  Why are you here?  Go away useless thinking.  Stop tearing up my mind, my heart.  Screaming, I never make a sound.  Bleeding, but why can’t I die?  Why won’t you let me die?  I want to die.  I don’t want to die.  Where is my peace?  Safety.  No refuge.  Taken away.  It was taken away.  My solace.  My escape.  Tainted.  Made yours, not mine.  Why?  Am I allowed nothing?  Do I deserve this?  What did I do?  A wish I made so many years ago?  Punishment.  Payment.  Atonement. 

Shaking.  Trembling.  Why don’t I cry?  Never cry.  Never never.  Don’t speak.  Don’t cry.  Take it.  Take it all and just die a little more inside.  I was laughing.  I was happy.  I deserve to suffer.  It’s my fault.  My fault.  A broken family.  A broken home.  A broken mind.  A broken heart.

Get out of my head.  Get out get out get out getoutgetoutgetoutgetoutgetout.  I hate you.  I love you.  I hate me.  I love me.  Which is true?  Is this reality or is that?  I don’t know anymore.  Did I ever?  I just don’t know.  And maybe don’t want to.

I can't think straight.

 Everything’s jumbled and jagged, swirling round and round, cutting up my thoughts, making everything so confusing, my brain feels like it’s burning up, I can’t think. I want to make it stop. I just want it to stop. I want everything to run in the right directions, I want to remember what day it is, I want to know what I’m doing, saying, thinking, feeling. It’s all just so everywhere, scattered, running too fast, I can’t stop it. So many thoughts. What am I doing? What am I saying? Who is this person? Where did I go? Or is this me and that other me was the fake? How do I know? Would anyone know?
It’s so quiet here all the time. Always empty. Just me. All alone, all the time. I don’t want to go to sleep. I don’t want to be alone. I’m terrified and I don’t know why. I know if I sleep, I’ll wake up and feel better. Well, usually, but I’m still so scared. Why is it so scary? I hate being alone all the time, but I hate when there are other people here too. I feel like I’m suffocating, like I’m drowning. If I opened a vein, would this feeling eventually drain out with my blood? What would it take to make this go away? These feelings that make me feel like there’s a hole in my chest sucking out everything and leaving only emptiness and pain? Can that be cut out?
I don’t want to be me so much, but I don’t want to be anybody else either. I just want to work. To have everything function normally. I’m so tired of feeling like such a freak. I know that a lot of things I do are not normal, but I hate feeling like they’re abnormal. I hate feeling like I’m abnormal.
I don’t even know what I’m saying and I’m crying again. I hate crying, hate it hate it hate it. Crying is weak.
I think I need to be done with this now.

Kitty

Oh, look cute kitty.

The world is a fascinating place

Or maybe...

The world is a vampire.

Hmm.
Sent from my Verizon Wireless BlackBerry