Soon, it'll be over & easier till my last breath of air comes. I don't want to escape for now, but I want to escape forever. Aaron said he doesn't get it why people get suicidal over the littlest things. It's because dead people don't feel anything.
Dead people can't comprehend. Dead people don't do anything but be mourned over. Only if you are dead, do you have a funeral. Only then do you have five people or more weeping over you.
While you live, everything is wrong. You can never get things right because from the start, the life you led was a mistake. Did you ever get the feeling before, that you're the cause of a problem? When you look into someone else's life and think, why can't I be her.
When I was young I wished to grow up and wear those 4 inch stiletto heels and do my thing. I wanted to be Barbie, I wanted to be queen. I never was the winner, forever the runner-up or the loser. I didn't have my father hug me for probably 6 years straight. I haven't had a hug from my mother for 3. No one tells me they love me for who I am, and if you're reading this then you probably think I'm self-centered. I probably am. But I'm so blinded by woe and regret that I refuse to look around anymore. I see no point because one day it's going to fade and even if I try to appreciate it now, it ends up as a vague memory. Sometimes remembered, frequently forgotten.
I live and let go, sometimes I hold grudges for my own good. I don't let in easy but sometimes you have to. I'm stubborn, I admit. I'm willing to change but not even I know my limits. I've thought of death since I was ten and I'm fourteen now. I'm still alive and kicking, struggling and cursing.
Life does take you by the collar and judge you like a dog on sale. The lesser flaws you live with, the easier your life passes. The more you have, which most likely are created, good game friend. Good game. I'm weak, I'm strong.
I'm only fourteen and three fourth of my life is down the sewers. I don't know my ambitions anymore. They're probably harder to reach than before. I've lost all clear sanity.
If I'm so blinded by woe, wouldn't I be numb from pain? I would be physically. But I'd have to let go all memory. No one wants to die with regret. Everyone wishes to die a happy man. To have someone understand me is the biggest, biggest wish I ever wanted. And not to judge me on my mistakes or my stupidity.
I'm tired from fighting and trying. I lost the will to carry on. I'm useless. Like a piece of stray thread.
