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Caught in the deception of who I really am and who I want to be. I wonder if anyone or anything can pull me away from this path of destruction. I’m forcing myself away from the reality just so I can breathe. And I thank everyone with this fake relief. I want to smash everything into pieces and disappear into the nothingness that remains of my heart. This heart so torn and broken, the pieces glued back together and securely chained in place. No one cared, no one cared to tell me where all the pretty things in life are. And this is my ‘God’ stuck in the heart of every nice girl. So when the sun goes out maybe it wont be so dark. Maybe it wont be so lowly. These precious things, let them be now, let them wash away. These… these precious things, let them break, let the pieces wash away.
And Im really an ugly girl, just pretending to be something better as I wait for the ice to melt. For this cold to thaw and for the chains on my heart to drop away. I can’t stay here unmoving. This is winter and the cold inside of my heart. But its just a little warmer when I think of winter. I tell myself I need to wake up. That I can’t be supported by others forever. But I like this security. I like this false hope. I don’t want to make up my mind and be all alone again. I don’t know if I can love myself as much as others want to love me. My surface is cold, untouchable. There are no precious things. And I tell people I always want them near and they tell me ‘things change my dear’. Just as winter melts and spring comes. Is there any worth in trying anymore? After all there is no mirror on the wall. No crystal palace. I am empty and the ice is getting thin.

And there it is again that feeling of doubt and it takes me into a place I know I’ve only forgotten. Those daydreams can’t mean nothing, those empty hallways were not created by my mind. I know, I’m certain I’ve felt and known these places before. Feeling the absolution of the torn walls that had no right to exist. No right to be at all and yet I am the same as them. I am just another worthless thing. That’s what ever little sign tells me. That I will be forgotten. I am just this pathetic doll which has no purpose but to exist and be used. Perhaps I want too much to be loved, to feel warmth in my heart instead of the icy cold. I don’t even know who I am anymore. I feel so false and fake as though I should have burned away in the atmosphere of birth. Am I a person at all, a child born by doom. The unneeded thing of this earth. Ill be thrown to the curb again someday, be it now or ten years from now. It will happen. Such is my hopeless irreversible destiny. If I could just disappear and start over would life be better? I don’t know. If life is so worth living then why does mine feel like its already over? Why does it feel like I should have given up long ago? I don’t have the heart to share these words with those who may understand my feelings. This is because I don’t feel their words that are meant to comfort will do anything but force me to grieve. They can’t see the tears behind my eyes that I can’t make myself cry. Everything inside of me aches as though I’m dying and I feel as though its my own fault yet my own conviction to let myself die. To see myself fade before my own eyes. View a death from a third person I never realized existed. Maybe that’s why life isn’t worth living—because I cant see it from an outward prospective. No one can, this is what I hate. Id love to feel the blood freely against my fingertips and wake up from this horrid nightmarish dream. I am neither free from this nor consoled from my pain. Perhaps I was supposed to feel better than I do now. Perhaps I was supposed to let go and forget every dream and thought that plagued me but I cant. Nothing can set me free from my fate of this ever constant pain that burns into my soul and eats away at my empathy and thoughts until I feel none are my own…

Love—the overnight blooming flower surprisingly it doesn’t do all the things we want it to. It makes us suffer and cry and wish for the most awful of things upon ourselves. Love is walking a thin string that you must balance high enough away from the burning candle below that is your passion. If love comes too close to passion the string burns and you’ve said too much. Love begins and ends so quickly its hard to even imagine. Love is over dramatic and it makes me wish I couldn’t forget that force in my head. Lets fight for what we believe in. Leave kicking and screaming putting up the fight of our lives. Misery loves us all but it is those that overcome it that are strongest. Folding before the fallout we are stung over and over by love and yet we realize how much it is worth. True love, a dance between two that understand each other so completely. Perhaps I just don’t know how to dance with anyone. The only sympathy anyone seems to feel for me is by wanting me to crawl into bed with them. If that is the true dance of love then I want none of it. I’m no good with words but this is all I can say. The things they say are like a forked tongue turned honey on my lips. I just can’t seem to find anything worth loving and being loved by.