Vahn Fah
I love you so much. Being with you is like nothing I�ve ever experienced before. I never knew that love could be so controlling, so manipulative, and so hurting. I didn�t know that love came in a tiny black package with a sticker saying �DO NOT OPEN�. Is it all supposed to be like this? Am I supposed to cry every night? Things used to be so wonderful. You used to love me like I was a person, not just another ******** idiot. Now you love me like a toy. I�m a doll to you.
Wind me up and I�ll say the same damn things I�ve said for the past year again and again.
Welcome to my life, where my girlfriend�s wishes are my every ******** command. I wish I were perfect, I wish you would love me. I�m the razor and you�re the bloodthirsty cutter. You tear and slash me apart all over, then slowly lick my wounds clean. I�m the depressant; you�re my sickness and my medication. You make breathing unbearable, then turn around and filter the ******** air. You make me stop cutting, but the way you treat me makes me want to ******** die. I�ve given myself to you completely, and the entire time I�ve only been fed lies.
I went with you, thinking you could fix my life. Thinking you would take away my sorrows, throw away my razors and fix my tattered, broken, worthless life. You were the one person who was supposed to make it all right. But as time went on, I saw that you were the one wanting to hurt me. Your intentions were all wrong. I have learned my lesson. Is my suffering not enough for you? Beat me, bruise me, ******** me up some more. I�m nothing but a boy with a problem for making every little thing turn into something big. So let me get rid of this problem now. I�m too stupid for you?
Here, let me take that razor to my wrist. Let me stick the barrel to my head and pull the trigger. I�ve been longing for something to push me over the edge for way too long already. I�m worthless anyway, so does it matter? Will one life ******** matter? When I�m gone, will you look at my pictures and wonder whatever happened to that boy I fell in love with so long ago? The one I promised everything to? Yeah, remember, that�s me.
The one who ******** died for you.
Wind me up and I�ll say the same damn things I�ve said for the past year again and again.
Welcome to my life, where my girlfriend�s wishes are my every ******** command. I wish I were perfect, I wish you would love me. I�m the razor and you�re the bloodthirsty cutter. You tear and slash me apart all over, then slowly lick my wounds clean. I�m the depressant; you�re my sickness and my medication. You make breathing unbearable, then turn around and filter the ******** air. You make me stop cutting, but the way you treat me makes me want to ******** die. I�ve given myself to you completely, and the entire time I�ve only been fed lies.
I went with you, thinking you could fix my life. Thinking you would take away my sorrows, throw away my razors and fix my tattered, broken, worthless life. You were the one person who was supposed to make it all right. But as time went on, I saw that you were the one wanting to hurt me. Your intentions were all wrong. I have learned my lesson. Is my suffering not enough for you? Beat me, bruise me, ******** me up some more. I�m nothing but a boy with a problem for making every little thing turn into something big. So let me get rid of this problem now. I�m too stupid for you?
Here, let me take that razor to my wrist. Let me stick the barrel to my head and pull the trigger. I�ve been longing for something to push me over the edge for way too long already. I�m worthless anyway, so does it matter? Will one life ******** matter? When I�m gone, will you look at my pictures and wonder whatever happened to that boy I fell in love with so long ago? The one I promised everything to? Yeah, remember, that�s me.
The one who ******** died for you.
Vahn Fah
She was by no means a beautiful girl. At least, what most would consider beauty. She and her sister (who had happened to get all the 'good looking' genes) led a mostly abused childhood, having been drugged, molested, and in several different shelters and foster homes. Though they had been through much, they managed to stay close, and they managed to become somewhat decent people.
Let me introduce you to our unpretty heroine, the elder of these two girls. Her name is, well, let's call her Jean, and she was 21 at the time this story was accumulated. What has she done with her life? She has tried to make it better for those around her, to the best of her ability. She has always had an abstract life style, and she chose the same for her career. Jeannie is a caregiver for people with mental and physical dysabilities, and a few days a week, she goes to a shelter in the downtown region of her city, and volunteers her time cooking in the kitchen, and playing with the children there. She consistantly has different color hair... as of the date this story was written, its half fire engine red, and half shadow black. Her septum and lip are pierced. Her makeup is always dark, but to everyone around her- the smile is always bright. She is very good at keeping things inside, its something she learned to do while going through the abuse I mentioned earlier.
She is a band t-shirt and jeans sort of girl.
I dont think I mentioned yet, that Jean is slightly heavy set. Some people dont think this takes from the blue of her eyes, or the lightness of her skin. Some people dont think this takes from her personality. The fact that she would do anything at all in her power to help someone less fortunate than her. But sadly enough, most do.
Four months ago, Jean met someone. Someone that changed her life forever. His name... his name means nothing in the scheme of things. Yet, he was amazing. He wore all black. But not the typical gothich black. He never accessorized, he didnt wear makeup. He liked the black because of the life style he lead. He was homeless, by choice. He wanted no part of a capitalist government, and so he chose to live outside the system to the best of his ability.
Jean met our homeless anarchist at the aforementioned shelter where she volunteered, on December 18th. It was her first day there. She came in soaking. It had rained, and she was having some trouble locating the place. Road construction had made it hard to locate. Upon entering, she was told that the outside outreach she was there for was canceled, but they were going to meet at a local punk show later that night, and she was more than welcome to wait inside, out of the rain.
She took her converse off, which had been soaked through, and put her mittens on her feet, which were freezing. A beautiful little girl, who Jean would in her later visits come to know as Zell, cane up and asker her what were wrong with her feet. Jean responded- 'I replaced them with hands. Doesnt that look silly?' Zell laughed, and skipped off, telling some of her other little friends she had made about this silly hand footed girl.
At this point, Jean looked up towards the kitchen. She could see a guy in there- he wasnt the most handsome. But he was striking. Wearing all black. He came out a few minutes later, and shook her hand. She could feel a sudden electricity in her stomach. An electricity that shot from the top of her head to her glove covered toes and back. He had beautiful hands. Long, thin and slender. His eyes were so dark you couldnt see the pupils. His hair was slightly wavy, and dark black, just like the rest of him. He seemed to be adorned in black. He swept away, off to the kitchen, and she got something out of her purse, and scribbled down 'he is beautiful- December 18th'.
I wouldnt call what she experianced love at first sight. I'd call it more of a fatal mistake.
From this moment on, this nameless boy and Jean were inseprable.
They would spend their days sneaking into movies, dumpster diving for bagels to feed ducks at a park, going to the library to talk or read or play online. (Surprisingly, our guy in black was the one that showed Jean this site. She liked it alot.) They would ride the train, carve things into benches, share good quotes from famous or dead people, one time they on a whim took a trip to Arizona to retrieve Jean's sister. He met her family, who also lived there, and they were impressed by his strong will, and ability to lead the life he believes in.
Jean and he did everything together, except anything along the lines of intimate. They would hold hands, sleep in the same bed and wake up side by side in one anothers arms... they would play with each others hair, and sit side by side consistantly.
Our girl did alot for this boy. He confessed to her once that he missed the radio- which was a huge part of his life before he chose to live this way. She went out and got him a portable radio. The little shed where he squatted was often cold and damp (she had spent the night there with him once), so she brought in a blanket when he wasnt there to keep him warmer. And- might I add that this wasnt just any blanket- it was the last one her great grandmother made before passing away. It was very dear to her heart. One time, when he jumped a fence, he gashed his arm. Jean got some neosporin and bandaids, and took care of it till it healed. She tried her hardest to quit smoking- he didnt like it. She would sit with him in the shelter till late at night while he did odd jobs, just to be moral support- even if this meant she missed the bus and had to walk ten miles home. There was nothing this girl wouldnt do for this boy.
After four months of he and her, their personalities seemed to merge, and they confessed their love to one another. However, there was one fateful error. He told her that he could never be any sort of intimate with her, because he was good looking and she wasnt. He confessed to her, that one moring apon waking next to her side, he wished that she had looked like her sister, so he could have sex with her. He said that he was in love with Rachel- but she was to good for him. Which was quite a clever way to say again, that she just wasnt pretty enough. He just couldnt look past her exterior.
This girl Jean. She had never been in love with anyone before all of this. And she doesnt intend to ever again. Doesn't she wish more than anyone that your outside reflected the person you are inside. If that were the case, she wouldnt be to hard on the eyes.
It was just yesterday that he said all these things to her. She places no blame on her sister. Her sister is the most beautiful girl, inside and out, and if responsiable for nothing but loving her without question. She places no blame on him either. How silly it was of her to expect him to look beyond where nobody else had before. She has taken a day to reflect on all of this, and has decided- if he, this boy who confessed his love for her, couldnt truly love her- then who else should she expect to?
Tonight Jean is going to go home, and pick out a lovley outfit. Maybe one with some sentamental value. She will put on some makeup, and her favorite jewelry. She will pick out a song she paticularly loves. Maybe one that matches her story a bit. One that talks about perserviering hardships. She will take alltogether to many pills, and go to sleep forever.
She believes that in the afterlife, your juged by content of character, and she thinks she will fit in better there.
Let me introduce you to our unpretty heroine, the elder of these two girls. Her name is, well, let's call her Jean, and she was 21 at the time this story was accumulated. What has she done with her life? She has tried to make it better for those around her, to the best of her ability. She has always had an abstract life style, and she chose the same for her career. Jeannie is a caregiver for people with mental and physical dysabilities, and a few days a week, she goes to a shelter in the downtown region of her city, and volunteers her time cooking in the kitchen, and playing with the children there. She consistantly has different color hair... as of the date this story was written, its half fire engine red, and half shadow black. Her septum and lip are pierced. Her makeup is always dark, but to everyone around her- the smile is always bright. She is very good at keeping things inside, its something she learned to do while going through the abuse I mentioned earlier.
She is a band t-shirt and jeans sort of girl.
I dont think I mentioned yet, that Jean is slightly heavy set. Some people dont think this takes from the blue of her eyes, or the lightness of her skin. Some people dont think this takes from her personality. The fact that she would do anything at all in her power to help someone less fortunate than her. But sadly enough, most do.
Four months ago, Jean met someone. Someone that changed her life forever. His name... his name means nothing in the scheme of things. Yet, he was amazing. He wore all black. But not the typical gothich black. He never accessorized, he didnt wear makeup. He liked the black because of the life style he lead. He was homeless, by choice. He wanted no part of a capitalist government, and so he chose to live outside the system to the best of his ability.
Jean met our homeless anarchist at the aforementioned shelter where she volunteered, on December 18th. It was her first day there. She came in soaking. It had rained, and she was having some trouble locating the place. Road construction had made it hard to locate. Upon entering, she was told that the outside outreach she was there for was canceled, but they were going to meet at a local punk show later that night, and she was more than welcome to wait inside, out of the rain.
She took her converse off, which had been soaked through, and put her mittens on her feet, which were freezing. A beautiful little girl, who Jean would in her later visits come to know as Zell, cane up and asker her what were wrong with her feet. Jean responded- 'I replaced them with hands. Doesnt that look silly?' Zell laughed, and skipped off, telling some of her other little friends she had made about this silly hand footed girl.
At this point, Jean looked up towards the kitchen. She could see a guy in there- he wasnt the most handsome. But he was striking. Wearing all black. He came out a few minutes later, and shook her hand. She could feel a sudden electricity in her stomach. An electricity that shot from the top of her head to her glove covered toes and back. He had beautiful hands. Long, thin and slender. His eyes were so dark you couldnt see the pupils. His hair was slightly wavy, and dark black, just like the rest of him. He seemed to be adorned in black. He swept away, off to the kitchen, and she got something out of her purse, and scribbled down 'he is beautiful- December 18th'.
I wouldnt call what she experianced love at first sight. I'd call it more of a fatal mistake.
From this moment on, this nameless boy and Jean were inseprable.
They would spend their days sneaking into movies, dumpster diving for bagels to feed ducks at a park, going to the library to talk or read or play online. (Surprisingly, our guy in black was the one that showed Jean this site. She liked it alot.) They would ride the train, carve things into benches, share good quotes from famous or dead people, one time they on a whim took a trip to Arizona to retrieve Jean's sister. He met her family, who also lived there, and they were impressed by his strong will, and ability to lead the life he believes in.
Jean and he did everything together, except anything along the lines of intimate. They would hold hands, sleep in the same bed and wake up side by side in one anothers arms... they would play with each others hair, and sit side by side consistantly.
Our girl did alot for this boy. He confessed to her once that he missed the radio- which was a huge part of his life before he chose to live this way. She went out and got him a portable radio. The little shed where he squatted was often cold and damp (she had spent the night there with him once), so she brought in a blanket when he wasnt there to keep him warmer. And- might I add that this wasnt just any blanket- it was the last one her great grandmother made before passing away. It was very dear to her heart. One time, when he jumped a fence, he gashed his arm. Jean got some neosporin and bandaids, and took care of it till it healed. She tried her hardest to quit smoking- he didnt like it. She would sit with him in the shelter till late at night while he did odd jobs, just to be moral support- even if this meant she missed the bus and had to walk ten miles home. There was nothing this girl wouldnt do for this boy.
After four months of he and her, their personalities seemed to merge, and they confessed their love to one another. However, there was one fateful error. He told her that he could never be any sort of intimate with her, because he was good looking and she wasnt. He confessed to her, that one moring apon waking next to her side, he wished that she had looked like her sister, so he could have sex with her. He said that he was in love with Rachel- but she was to good for him. Which was quite a clever way to say again, that she just wasnt pretty enough. He just couldnt look past her exterior.
This girl Jean. She had never been in love with anyone before all of this. And she doesnt intend to ever again. Doesn't she wish more than anyone that your outside reflected the person you are inside. If that were the case, she wouldnt be to hard on the eyes.
It was just yesterday that he said all these things to her. She places no blame on her sister. Her sister is the most beautiful girl, inside and out, and if responsiable for nothing but loving her without question. She places no blame on him either. How silly it was of her to expect him to look beyond where nobody else had before. She has taken a day to reflect on all of this, and has decided- if he, this boy who confessed his love for her, couldnt truly love her- then who else should she expect to?
Tonight Jean is going to go home, and pick out a lovley outfit. Maybe one with some sentamental value. She will put on some makeup, and her favorite jewelry. She will pick out a song she paticularly loves. Maybe one that matches her story a bit. One that talks about perserviering hardships. She will take alltogether to many pills, and go to sleep forever.
She believes that in the afterlife, your juged by content of character, and she thinks she will fit in better there.
Vahn Fah
Take away my honesty
I never used it anyway
Take away this bitter heart
So I will never bleed again
Strip me bare to nothingness
Lock me up inside myself
Steal away my innocence
And set me free to kill myself
Again
Oh, again.
Wake me from my pleasent dreams
The only time that I escape
I pour the acid in my viens
To see the horror on your face
So strip me bare to lowlyness
I lock my pain inside myself
You stole away my innocence
And let me free to kill myself
Again
Oh, again!
I never used it anyway
Take away this bitter heart
So I will never bleed again
Strip me bare to nothingness
Lock me up inside myself
Steal away my innocence
And set me free to kill myself
Again
Oh, again.
Wake me from my pleasent dreams
The only time that I escape
I pour the acid in my viens
To see the horror on your face
So strip me bare to lowlyness
I lock my pain inside myself
You stole away my innocence
And let me free to kill myself
Again
Oh, again!
