I'm here, and I love you.
I have always loved you, and I will always love you. I was
thinking of you, seeing your face in my mind, every second
that I was away. When I told you that I didn’t want you,
it was the very blackest kind of blasphemy.
faaavorite<3?=P
No more please. you cannot handle it. Month after month
of catastrophe (some of it manifested by your defects, lovely defects, you have them all). Non-stop struggling and breaking down and hospitals and doctors and mental health workers that have their heads up their asses. I'm sorry she hurt you. She is no good.She has been feeling dead for too long now. Everyone fled. The pain in her chest likes to move up and evolve into a lump, the size of the Whole Wide World , pushing and straining her throat until her mouth is opened into an ugly sob. Too much pressure. She will never be right. She have never felt like an occupant on this shit World. No more hospitals. No more medication or shock therapy. You are a lost cause. You reek of death and you may as well pull the plug because who the fuck cares man when everything is a twisted nightmare and the isolation is unbearable, yet it is so hard to be among people; they are like automatons or they are built much better than you. They have an agenda. They are. perhaps, more dead than you in a sense. A whole wad of dirt comes squeezing out their mouths toxic and disgustingly. She cannot see the day or the colors and is always so afraid." I have to be good." "I have to be good." It is so easy to be crooked. They see her crookedness sticking out of her soul like a murder....and even, perhaps, no for sure, a burden. Lay her down. She is so afraid of laying down because she can't get up and no one is there. She made Hell. She does't have to live it. It is her choice anytime. Her right. Her septic life.She hates life.She hates it so intensely. Without a drug, she is dysfunctional. She swallows pills for her brain and all the other fucked genes she was so blessed with. Fuck this. She knows she is wrong. She will never feel present. She is wasting. Instead of having someone stick a needle in her arm she will just tell them to ease the barrel against her temple like a prayer and pull the trigger. "PLEASE KILL ME. If not, I will do it myself.": Too much.She doesn't belong here in this sick place. "I am never right." And then the great apathy comes and she learns how to tie a noose so perfectly. Just in case. Just in case. She hates. She hates you all." I hate you. I hate the people. I hate the abandonment you left me with. A huge hole in my chest like a double barrel ripping and tearing at my flesh and destroying my organs: that is my gripe. I never abandoned you. You fucked up people. You "friends." Who was there during your NERVOUS BREAKDOWNS? HUH? So fuck it and you rot in your misery. I hope it is as intense as mine. I am not going to pretend to get better. I can't fake it. Sometimes you just don't give a shit. And you dig the hole until it is large enough to dump your appalling body and deteriorated brain into the disheveled dirt hollow. No more tears. No more guilt. No more burden. You tamper with the eternal sleep. It goes around and around, churning in your mind like disease. GET IT OUT! PLEASE KILL ME! "Never wake up. Never ever have to live again. A luxury problem. A bliss. Take your mental illness and drug addiction to Hell. Hell has you. They have given up on you. You have tried everything....almost everything, from the severe to the week's boring vacation at Club Hospital. This is not your life. Go to sleep. Sleep well. You are so tired and sick. Amen.
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