Sunday, December 6, 2009
Death
I've never been an easy child to understand, always doing
things bad things because of the way I feel inside. I know people
who feel the way I do, to depressed to look forward, I try to talk
to them knowing it will go in one ear and out the other. At least I
can say that I tried. I'm not trying to complain when I say
this nor am I trying to threaten suicide but the thought of death
seems so beautiful a mysterious silhouette only a quick gun shot
away. School's coming up and I would much rather shred my vain
open with my teeth then go back to that place of hell. Home is bad,
but school is full of people. People have always judged me. My
mother she is beautiful with eyes green as Ireland and skin
that's been kissed by the sun. Not a day passes when I'm
not compared to her. I understand my mother is beautiful I
understand I am not. I've never sunk in self pity because I am
not a super model because people stop to stare and my mother but
pass me. No I don't care, but the fact that people feel the
need to treat her better because she was born pretty, that
isn't fair. I tell my Diana my beautiful but rather f--- ed up
Diana don't let anyone tell you your not beautiful but then
look in the mirror to see hypocrisy. This piece of writing
doesn't make sense to you, but it means a lot to be able to
spill my guts on the table for I have no one to talk to just a
blank page and a keyboard. People come around and tell me they love
me I sit there and un lady like as it may be think they're
spilling a load of bull s--- from they're mouth. They don't
know me it takes years maybe a decade to get inside the real me.
But I tell myself three more years and I can leave forget what the
men have done to me forget the pain, and trust it will never happen
again. I can forget the people I've met the hell they know and
the hell I know. I can not loose myself now, but I'm feeling a
little less then humane right now.
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