I don’t know if I had to blame my dog for dying on me, or the uninvited rain during my birthmonth, or probably the fact that I’m still stuck with BPI, as much as I want to go and live for what i really wanted.
or maybe coz i haven’t tried what everybody else does, you know: drink or smoke and have sex?
The chaos that was human life. It’s hilarious in my eyes and, oddly enough, it makes me feel apathethic for this unreasonable innocence and indifference from having to taste my humanity and make bad stuff, fuck yourself up many times over. Now I know that it’s actually harder to feel blank, instead of feeling sad or hurt. At least you get to feel something and you could describe it and sing along with it, or have you know if you have to jump off a cliff.
But not like this, it makes you look stupid and inhumane. You feel out of place whenyou’re in a room filled with smokers and whores, exchanging sexual stories as normal as narrating fairy tales to a child. Sadly, I am that child.
I’ll be 24 next week and it appears that I have been some ancient concrete with a hollow gut. Full of stuff locked up in the mental department but couldn’t really defecate it out at work because your damn job helps you forget all of those hell high shit taught from gradeschool to college. I feel badly deteriorating.
I’m losing hope..
That I could still find a work that I’d really love.
That I could forget all of those unwanted remnants in my brain caused by some neurotic people who loved to live for my suffering.
That I could get to maintain my boyfriend’s overflowing lust in his balls while counting a few more days, amicably mine too.
What is it really?
I don’t attend my cosplay events anymore. I don’t watch concerts anymore. I don’t write anymore (except now), I don’t do this and that anymore. I feel life escaping from my insipid nutshell.
Now feeling void makes me sad. I feel sad. Sad that I don’t know how to keep up with my life anymore. I see it like a blur before my eyes, fast phased neon lazers in a haze of dust, blocking my sight.
I feel sad..and alone.
I don’t want to be by myself. I don’t like being touched by stranger’s hands without having the strength to tell “fuck off”. I don’t like being told what to do, or not being told what to do. I’m hating pressure, pressure that used to make me strong. I didn’t want you to take it away from me. I’ll give it to you in my time. But don’t leave me until then.
Because I’d definitely die if you leave me.
My alternative/punk rock world/ now distorted by Krauser’s powerful influence. This is getting too dark, and I’m living it. Wanting it.