ME: I'm emo. Life sucks, i screwed up my essay, my test and...
FRIEND(S): Well, don't be. I'm sure everything will turn out fine. Anyway, that's been the case for the past ten weeks isn't it? Or rather, the past 20 years you've been living. **Note: they are represented as a collective voice. ME: (laughs)No, I don't know really. I think it's school. I used to get in and out this cycle all the time, but now it's just there. There's no exit sign. Maybe it's just life now in general. . .sort of meaningless. FRIEND(S): You need a sense of purpose. ME: I know. But I can't seem to find any. Most things just slip through my fingers afterawhile. After all, good things don't seem to last.
I need to deal with myself. I keep saying that, but I have no energy guts to. I can't face the realities of loss. It's a one-way track. Nothing gained, always some things lost. The most important things. You're there. You listen. You cry when they hurt almost as if you feel their heartbeat in sync with yours. And . . . you cry alone when you're hurting, because they have someone else.
I sound like a pathetic fool. Some emotional alcohol infested angsty teenage girl who needs regular therapy. No. I don't cut myself. Because I don't have guts, remember? I like people to be happy, no matter how painful. Even when I have to be the person to walk away, I don't mind. I take it all in one big breath and move on. Now, it's all coming back to me. Hurting. I know I'm not even in a position to rant. They are consequences. I should be old enough to deal with it. But when you know you're just never good enough and all your life, you'll just be second best. . .
People come, people go. You'd think they'd be there forever, because they'd promise you that. "Don't worry, I'll be here! You've got me." And you tell yourself not to fall into that. You withdraw and put up these brick walls, and they hack into them. You give in. They walk away.
A call comes several months later. One of those "How've you been?" things. And then who knows, the voicemail might greet them saying, "Hi, it's me. I'm not around anymore. I'm dead. Yes, I prepared this for you. I had no one."
I am a tragedy. So what.
In a game of hide and seek, the hider and seeker is alternated because it gets to tiring.
I wished I had the guts to maybe jump off the building into the crisp air and then land with a dying smile. Oh yes, and I'd leave that voicemail message too. Just in case.
she waxed lyrical - 9:32 PM
Comments:
Can only offer lame advice such as: keep going. Things sometimes get easier as you get older - you have more power over your own life.
: Mon Mar 19, 11:22:00 AM