I know that love is hate twisted around to suit a purpose. If one thing my current circumstance has taught me it is that it is better to die fast and young than it is to live. Now I know why so many people get into prostitution and drugs. Right now I think I would do just about anything to escape.
Two of the best escapes in the world rough sex and drugs. I think I will stick to the rough sex and in some ways would make a the perfect concubine. Not so much into the whole drug experience. Can’t really deal with anything that will make me lose my grip on reality any further. It is already slipping too far beyond my grasp. I know what things should be and I know what I should do I just can’t bring myself to do it.
It is funny that I find killing myself easier than living a relatively simple life. The voices are stronger than they ever have been in the past. They whisper to me telling me what I should do and what things should be like. I am sure I could step outside and find what they are asking for. Only the knowledge that if I start doing what they tell me to do I will be lost. Since when they start realizing I am paying attention to them they will get louder and never stop talking, commanding obedience
I will trap myself inside buried deep within and withdrawn from the rest of the world. I’ve done it before and the people around me looked into my eyes and saw nothing there. I can function for a long time like that. My body is on autopilot. I will do what ever I am told. I am almost at the point that I will do anything to not feel anymore even if it means listening to the voices and letting them be in control for a while. It just scares people when they look at me and realize that at that moment they are staring at something without a soul.
It was my idea and half way through it I found myself thinking that if I didn’t already plan on not surviving in the same form I am now I probably would take myself to the nearest highest bridge and jump off. I remember when he loved me and wanted to be around me. That is what makes it so horrible it would be different if I couldn’t remember or if it wasn’t so clear. I shouldn’t have gone there, I shouldn’t have sat there talking pouring my heart out to a person made of black glass just barely see through. I just didn’t realize that it would hurt so much. It is as if at any moment I am going to look down and I will have ripped out my own still beating heart from my chest. I can almost feel the slickness of the blood that still seems to pour out of it. I did this to myself and I can’t undo it. Before I get labeled an emo chick who is screaming whoa is me what I am talking about isn’t the teenage angst that is felt because of hormones but is no less real.
I thought that people stuck by each other when they loved one another. I thought if someone hurt a person you cared about you defended them. There was a time not so long ago that I would have stepped in front of a train to save the one life that I valued above all others and for some stupid reason I thought he felt the same about me. I feel deeper than most people. Feel stronger and bond tighter to those close to me.
When all of this started I thought that he would be there for me as I was for him every time he needed me. I did not expect what happened. Now as I sit alone as usual contemplating what went wrong I realize that the embedded carnival glass is moving under my skin again. It writhes and twitches like a living thing that wants out. For all I know it is alive and is willing to do what it can to break free of its prison just as I would be willing to do almost anything to break free of mine. Almost every avenue I have out is blocked. The last one came today when I found out the person I counted on the most had friends that hated me. With each passing thought the feeling gets worse.
You know the feeling that you feel when you just want to be home with your back against the wall tucked into a corner, just waiting? Just waiting to let out everything you’ve taken in that day. Feeling both desperate and relieved because nothing is wrong but nothing is right either, you are just so tired, tired of being nothing, tired of everything and you just want someone to tell you that it is ok. But no one is going to you know that from years of being kicked when you are down because no one can fix you. Tired of wanting tired of fixing yourself and everyone around you. Just once you want it to be simple to be helped to be saved but you know that’s not going to happen?
While reading over previous incarnations of introductions I realized that I have never actually properly introduced myself. These are the things that I keep meaning to say but somehow get lost when I get caught up in writing. In a way I wish you could see the world as I see it. I wish I could bring you into the splendor, beauty, and horror that is where my mind lives most of the time.
I try to bring you there I really do but it doesn’t always work out really well. This is where your comments come in. Even if it was just a hey I liked that description or I hated what you wrote they tell me that someone is at least thinking about what I write. I don’t ever delete them bad or good and with the exception of racial slurs I publish them all.
- I am completely crazy. Just when you think I am not you will notice something else that slides its slick slippery way into my writing and therefore into your mind. Come to think of it I like the thought of part of my mind writhing somewhere wet and dark in your head.
- I don’t know if I enjoy being crazy although some days are better than others.
- I want to die
So we have an open invitation to comment, rant, yell, scream, vent, talk, whisper, or scream and you have an open invitation to participate in killing another human who wants to be killed.
He said he would love me but was scared of the 1% of the time I was crazy. So he doesnt want me. Why does that bother me? Because I don’t want me. No one does.
Obsecro, mihi facultas videndi Deum angelis et demonibus – da mihi aliter vive – contra – O facultatem ad me, et audite obsecro ut interficias me, et pugnate pro eis vel.
Dieu s’il vous plaît me donner la possibilité de voir vos anges et les démons – me montrer une autre façon de vivre – lutter – s’il vous plaît m’aider et me donner la possibilité de voir et entendre les aider ou s’il vous plaît me tuer.
Gott gib mir bitte die Möglichkeit, Ihren Engel und Teufel zu sehen – zeigen Sie mir eine andere Art zu leben – zu kämpfen – bitte helfen Sie mir und geben mir die Fähigkeit zu hören und ihnen helfen, oder bitte töte mich zu sehen.
Ο Θεός παρακαλώ να μου δώσετε τη δυνατότητα να βλέπουν αγγέλους και διαβόλους σας – δείξτε μου έναν διαφορετικό τρόπο για να ζήσουν – για την καταπολέμηση της – παρακαλώ να με βοηθήσει και να μου δώσει τη δυνατότητα να δει ακούσει και να τους βοηθήσει ή μπορείτε να με σκοτώσει.
الله من فضلك أعطني القدرة على رؤية الملائكة والشياطين الخاص – تبين لي طريقة مختلفة للعيش – لمحاربة – الرجاء مساعدتي وتعطيني القدرة على رؤية نسمع ومساعدتهم أو يرجى قتلي.
मुझे मार दें.
obsecro ut interficias me.
Deo placere percusserit me. Tolle quaeso mihi in amplexus tuos æternam. Adiuva me, etiam si mortuus est, ut moriatur ibi conjunctio lucifer. Vociferabor ad te opem. Non ego sum, da mihi amet sit. Eorum claritatem in videam bonum et malum
Quare non occidas me, aut moriar
I really would do anything right now to make this go away. Or for that matter my wrist stop hitting the track pad and the courser stop jumping. I want to die that is all there is too it. Yes I am completely batshit crazy but the fun happy dancing around in bright colours crazy. I am the crazy that gets you killed in the big city at night. I am the crazy that people who hunt other people look for and I am the crazy that dies in dark alleys behind dumpsters. I am the crazy that exists because there is noone there that understands or cares. I am the crazy that hurts all the time and hates to wake up and I am the crazy that is going to take a bunch of pills which I know will make me sleep but hope will kill me. I am the crazy that you never want to find outside your door.
Rule number 1 Always have an exit strategy
Rule number 2 When you start to make your self think that you are crazy you probably are
Rule number 3 When you can no longer cope use the exit strategy
When pain outweighs the ability to cope then it is time not stop struggling to cope
When you want to scream scream. when you want to cry cry you know where this is heading I really am not sure that I am going to survive this.
It is a night like this that I pace the house my mind not able to settle on any one thing. I close my eyes and I am somewhere else. Sliding back and forth between safety and sanity. I find myself muttering “where did it start, have to find the beginning.” It started with the horse. With the death of me. It started when the horse killed me… wait that is not right… It started when I was killed by the horse. I pace the house like something caged and alone.
I chew my lower lip and repeat it had to have started with the horse and the death of me or was it the jackal… no it couldn’t be it couldn’t be he ate himself after the horse killed me… long after… but then I woke up or maybe he did. The Jackal woke up he saw he knew. It was before the monkey went mad or maybe it was before I went mad. No that’s not right because I am not mad am I? I close my eyes again startled by what is behind them they snap open and I begin to pace again.
I can’t remember any more… In a way it saddens me that I can’t remember what happened first. I taste a coppery thick liquid on my lip and realize that at some point worrying at it I have broken through my bottom lip with sharp teeth. The taste of blood reminds me of something more making me wish that I would just forget for now and not want to remember the smell, the taste when I opened my mouth to draw in breath that I realized that I had been holding in that moment. And my mind blanks the rest. This is why I can’t remember.
No I didn’t spell that wrong. It is pronounced Easter and is the name of a guess what… Pagan Goddess. Now I thought valentines day was bad with the strange origins but Ishtar is the goddess of love and war in some cultures and just love or just war in others. I always thought love and war were the same thing which is why I probably never married.
So we have the goddess of love and war whose symbols are rabbits and eggs – fertility yeah. Let me just jump up and celebrate fertility. Sorry not quite my thing. Sex yes whelping no…
Today the wind slides across the black sand as I have decided to stay inside my cage for a while longer. I can see it blow tiny puffs of dust across the stark plain. In the distance A plumb of dust floats toward the swirling sky as if something is coming. I wonder vaguely what it could be before shaking my head and allowing it to hang down once again.
I take my finger and draw the symbols I once knew and once cared about. They seem strange to me I stare at them and try to make sense of what they should mean. Just as love once meant something, as did life, and hope. I wonder how I got this far, how I could bury myself so far inside. Yet to be glad that I did it it doesn’t hurt so much in my self made prison, I don’t feel as much the only thing that still stays with me is the knowledge that as soon as I am no longer needed I will no longer live. I will seek out death and make its acquaintance perhaps we will be friends when it is all over with.