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crimson89 I wanna die.
My head is reeling from all the angst.
I realized how much I had going......and subsequently easy it is to fade away.
I missed everything. I miss my old self.
The one so fiery. I guess, like a certain Arthur, my pirate!days are over. I'm now the bitter old shell of the wild and reckless.....untamed being I was back in the olden days. We even had the same thing going. Although, I'm not immortal. My bitterness and loneliness drugged me to the gills at god damned twenty two. I even had the same delusions. Delusions, I won't name because it is far too many.
I won't add to that by denying it.
It aches. Aches so much. Abusing my physical body seems to be the only thing that keeps me grounded. Everything's a lie.
That numb sensation, of pitting yourself against everything. Just to reassure oneself that you're real. That you are still there.
still there alive. awake and mentally breathing.
So I pray. To whomever. If I go out, what purpose will I fulfill? If I stay, what productivity will I achieve? If I try, what sense will it make?
Can I just sleep? Sleep forever? Or trap me in a cocoon? Gorge myself in things that make sense.
Abuse oneself into turning you real? Just to see a certain spark?
If I break down now, because I'm in near to snapping the threads of my self-imposed reality, can I will myself back?
Can I bring myself back to face the world? I once stated in a previous post, how utterly Slytherin I am.
Call me coward. I don't care. I value myself enough to spare me the pain. But isn't being in pain, makes you feel alive? The masochism tendencies I've been forever practicing are really painful to reminisce.
I feel so fractured inside. Everything's in a standstill.
Come on. Make me feel alive.
Something. Anything.
My head is reeling from all the angst.
I realized how much I had going......and subsequently easy it is to fade away.
I missed everything. I miss my old self.
The one so fiery. I guess, like a certain Arthur, my pirate!days are over. I'm now the bitter old shell of the wild and reckless.....untamed being I was back in the olden days. We even had the same thing going. Although, I'm not immortal. My bitterness and loneliness drugged me to the gills at god damned twenty two. I even had the same delusions. Delusions, I won't name because it is far too many.
I won't add to that by denying it.
It aches. Aches so much. Abusing my physical body seems to be the only thing that keeps me grounded. Everything's a lie.
That numb sensation, of pitting yourself against everything. Just to reassure oneself that you're real. That you are still there.
still there alive. awake and mentally breathing.
So I pray. To whomever. If I go out, what purpose will I fulfill? If I stay, what productivity will I achieve? If I try, what sense will it make?
Can I just sleep? Sleep forever? Or trap me in a cocoon? Gorge myself in things that make sense.
Abuse oneself into turning you real? Just to see a certain spark?
If I break down now, because I'm in near to snapping the threads of my self-imposed reality, can I will myself back?
Can I bring myself back to face the world? I once stated in a previous post, how utterly Slytherin I am.
Call me coward. I don't care. I value myself enough to spare me the pain. But isn't being in pain, makes you feel alive? The masochism tendencies I've been forever practicing are really painful to reminisce.
I feel so fractured inside. Everything's in a standstill.
Come on. Make me feel alive.
Something. Anything.
