The fog

Then the depression sets in. The numbness is pretty strong. You just feel tired. You want to die now not because of pain but because it just seems better. Nothing because you're dead seems better than the nothing of just empty.

This used to be my favorite holdiay.

But I've worked each Halloween night for the past three years, and the only thing that made it ohkay was that you were there. Today is hell. I'm miserable, I'm tired, I'm stressed and it was a lot harder to not cry in class today than it had ever been. Blackbird came on in art class, and I'm not sure how I didn't lose it right there. It hurt so much. I hurt so much. No one even said Happy Halloween.
Wish you were here.

Its hard

Its hard to escape myself. I think about hurting myself a lot. Right now there is a push pin right next to me, and I"m writing to keep my hands from picking it up and sticking it into my side. I'm listening to cheerful music. I feel sick; I've got a thousand things to do. I can't stand myself. I imagine this is what a lemming feels like. The pull into a greater unknown, a dark sight. The fear beckoner, the sweet enticings of that void crawler. An unknowner licking its lips with my being. I'll be with you soon... Or I won't. I feel like rejecting my stomach. The brain vicegrip clamps tighter each day. To be or not to be, it is indeed the question. Oh Hamlet, I'm sure you were happy for your death in the end. That poison was sweet and warm; a sleep well earned. I've taken up not eating much. Its that slow sort of knife, a simple one, an easy one. Befitting of someone so weak. I hate myself. I hate being around me. I'd like to 'jump ship' as they said about him. Ready to drown.

Help Me

Please. Anyone. Someone. Please. I'm so empty. I dream of changing the past. I think about time travel and miracles. I beg for things to be different. I am so hurt. People keep saying they understand. I don't want that. I don't want understanding, I want him back. I want the kindness back. I want those eyes back. I want to call someone in the morning and ask them how they're doing. I want that smell back. I want the sound of you walking down the stairs. I have apples and milk that are all yours. Just swing by and have some. What were you thinking, what were the drugs thinking before you went? Did you think of me? Could I have stopped it? I was awake that night, I wish I would have called. I wish I was there. Oh please... just come back. The world keeps spinning. I don't know what to do. I hurt. I hurt. I gasp for air and everything hurts. I'm crying and shaking and I still need you. I love you. Its all gone now. No ones here. No one cares. Help. Help....I can't do this anymore. Help.

I said I won't.

I've had a lot of people in my life kill themselves. It started when I was in seventh grade, the cutting, the pills, running away. Not me, but the people I knew. The important people.The ones I cared about and knew. After the first one died I made a promise. That I would never do that. I would never leave anyone behind like that. And each time it happened again, I promised a few more people that I wouldn't. But this is the first time that I've ever desperately wanted to. Where are all those people I promised? I sure don't have anyone one here. I've still got to deal with the same people, who are only friends because they want to date me. I've mentions them before, and I'll say again that I"m not yours. I never was, I was always his, and mine. But never theirs. I've got people I see every once in a while, I have a million faces telling me that they understand. I can't stand a single one of them. I can't stand this life. I hate it, all of it. I don't even have improv to cling to. I've got my sick self that can't sleep at night, I've got a thousand pointless things to do, you know, to just stay busy. To keep my mind off of things. To keep it away from the knives, and the pills, and the running away. The cars that veer off the road, the 'accidents', the going missing. The gas mask and oxygen, or carbon monoxide, either the most humane way to go. No mess, no pain, and just like falling asleep. I want to. I've stared into the void for far too long. Its calling. I would know, if there was something after. If it just ended then it would just end, and if not I might get to know. I said I wouldn't.... I promised I'd live....
And so I'm here. A shell. A mask that has a contract scribbled onto the front in black ink. There's an expiration date on it to. I don't want to die. I need to. Its calling. Its calling. Its calling...
I never got to say goodbye, so maybe I wasn't supposed to.
All that's left is for me to say hello.

Dear boy

I've been really, really, really lonely before. And horribly terribly sad. But its not much compared to this. I've never felt human, except when I was with you. Now I'm just rusting from tears. My gears are slow, and I'm missing my energy source. I"m not much without love. Not much at all.

River flows in you

I first heard this song my sophomore year of high school. I sat and listened to it over and over again, completely entranced. I wept, and I did not know why. I captivated me, and filled a cavity in my chest. I did not know what I was missing, but it filled me and captured my missing essence. I never learned the very end of it, even though I spent every lunch period in the room with a piano, desperately trying to fill myself with this music. I listened to it again today and realized that I had filled that void with love. With improv, with friends, with art, with music, and with you, my dear.  And now most of that is gone. And so once again I fill my void with this song. Its different now, but my tears are the same, while the loss is greater, and I feel my blood trying to escape my veins.