Letting Go Is All I've Held Onto
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Over pass ... murder scene O.o
I went up to the over pass. The rain hasn't washed away
all the blood yet. I did have a knife in my pocket ... so
convinient really ... but I brought the dog with me. So I
couldn't no matter how much I wanted to.
It looks like a murder scene up there above those millions
of clue less passer bys.
I think Im going to start doing a good copy of the Damned
Notebook. Some of the stuff in there ... doesnt sound like
my writting. And hey, Ive got millions of notebooks in the
drawer and one could be spared to be a combination of
articles from a girl whos only hope is an open heart.
I need something .. but I dont know what it is yet. I feel
so ... alone. I dont know why, I just do. Im listening to
Boulevard Of Broken Dreams, my Green Day favourite.
I ... I dont know anymore. I want to be alone ... but Im
afraid of what might happen. Even after the reappearence
of the voice of reason, Im still fighting multiple urges.
How I long for the knife ... the sedations ... the tearing
threads of skin ... the blood ... the love.
I feel so empty and hollow. I dont know why. Love is
dulled ... it used to be a priority. WHat is becomming of
me? I ... I think I might be better off on my own. No one
would get hurt ... But what am I saying? I cant shut off
all of reality .. thats impossible. And besides, I dont
really want to. A small part of me wants to be left
alone ... but another part of me just wants to be held. To
be loved. To be ... me again.
My happy little wrist band covers them. Them. The
lines ... six death marks, all symplicite for another
reason. They dont bleed anymore. They dont hurt anymore.
The pain is gone ... but it left the mark. The marks Im
terrified to reveal, so they stay hidden. Under an
assortment of wrist bands to avoid any suspiscion.