I really need to get laid.

I guess I had resigned myself to being alone from the last time. I thought to myself : Never again.


But it always turns out this way and I'm already lost.


I have to find my own way home. But it's hard when there's nothing holding you back.

I'm so sick of having to lie to everyone.

But I have to keep this a secret. Not only for your sake.

I can't bear to let my family know how far I have really fallen.

I keep denying my name -

it's ok to hurt me but not ok for me to hurt anyone else.

I must learn to walk without crushing. I must learn to hurt without hurting.

All I need is someone to tell me it's alright for me to have this hatred. It's ok to carve myself up. It's ok to be me and to make the mistakes I have. But I can't find anyone who can do this.

Because they alll think it's wrong. They all think it's not okay. But I know it is because I know my own limits.

Well at least I tell myself that.

But again I can't tell if it's me or the things inside that scream in the name of God.

I can't bear to throw any of them out.

They've been part of my life for so long.. and I'm sick of feeling empty.

What to do when you are dead?

I reckon a great way to pass the time would just be to reach a state of zen...


But then again we all know how hard that is.

I'm sitting here and my stomach is churning.

I can't hear my own thoughts from the screaming, it never lets up. I cannot escape from this.



I say it again : I am sorry.

You suffocate me. I hate you. But even saying that is a lie because I know I love you.

But I cannot live with this dog at my heels.

I can hear it ripping at the door. It's whispering in my ear, telling me to hurt me, hurt them, hurt you.


And I listened. The slashes

they're leaking red down into the waistband of my jeans and I thank God that they are black, so the blood doesn't show up properly when I put them through for the wash.


I know I cannot keep this up.

But there's something eating away at me and I can't fight anymore.



I guess it has to be said. I can't be with you anymore. This is just making me sad and angry and I have never felt so free as when I'm not talking to you.

It's gotten to the stage I feel sick at the prospect of seeing you again.

This fucking anathema has rerouted the paths in my brain...


But there I go, making it my fault. But I know is IS my fault.

I can't say I'm sorry. But I also cannot say I don't feel regret. Either way my answer is a lie.