"your anxiety is endearing, but really love, get a grip"

I am jittery like always, thoughts racing, head pounding.

miss that, miss that, miss that, miss you, miss us.

fuck, and that's all I feel.

we are useless words, the word "useless" popping up everywhere, and unashamed and proud and all that. and i'm freaking out and i want to cry, I want to scream I want to do all those things I see in books in magazines in love and lovers of it. my ideas of humanity are off and that's fine by me just as long as you keep it down

"maybe yr just like me
maybe noone is" (wentz from wherever)

and it rings true after all because i can only quote things I didn't do but make sense, it makes sense, it all makes sense in the end.

and it never goes, never ever until i die, which at this rate is not far off

save me

this is a pattern, I see

another depressing entry, but what else is new

I've been lied to obviously, and I hate that, resent it so much

FUCK

i somehow think that

you're bluffing or pretending

please don't, it'll break my little stone heart

videotape

there is a distinct sadness that only you can make me feel
you, with your cutting fingers and horror eyes
I wear sleeves because I hate my arms, and you are so perfect
there are so many things you don't know
and you can't know
because I never will, I never will
"you're getting so thin, you're slipping away"
people don't ask me how I am really
chupacabra, and its awful claws,
and it's awful because i can't spell that, i don't think
his voice twists me in ways your words are more successful with
and it is so long after dark, you have to come inside
and there is so much silence here, it's pressing me down like no other
there is no need to interpret this, you'll be wrong
there are no metaphors, no similes
but there are people who do exist, even if in my mind solely,
they are based on true events and facts.
i look up ghost stories because I want to scare myself into submission
and still it doesn't work, and I am left merely with dreams
and the faint ocean spray, and your voice calling me on and on
in the distance, on the horizon, into the black and grey,
the blue of all things real and poignant, and that is where I belong.

self

I'm depressed

and that's all I can really say

because I am

and it's mindless, and I don't know where to start

you are my nightmare

i wait a little while longer, green haired and fearful, your stupid face is etched in my skull. and I hate you. and I hate you. starting sentences with prepositions never got anyone anywhere. Behind locked doors I can do whatever I choose. I can't cry I really can't and i'm sick of punctuation, it's really something. I can't sit still but I don't know where the fuck I want to go or what I'm going to do with the rest of my life. I hate it. I hate this all so much. it's my hatred and honor and despair but goddamn it eats me alive. These are words. these are words all words and the worse it grows the bigger hole I dig for myself the grave to throw myself in, the maggots crawling into my orifices. don't you love it. isn't it precious. are. you. in. love. with. me? I don't know. I don't even want you to be because he will always be in the back of your mind, always always and I cry at night in my dreams because they will not surface and I am ultimately numb but you knew that and this is essentially the greatest run on sentence in creation. I am not you and you are not me but we should be one but we can't and he is the girl, the love, the one that you hold dear and obsess obsess there are so many esses and ems and all that is awful and i hallucinate because yes i still love you I will never quite be over you it was not long ago it was something of a dream and I hate it this is one big block and it will never stop it goes and goes and goes and I can' say hello because i'm terrified. there is only you.