I think I believe in Heaven.
I'm not sure I believe in God.
I know I don't believe in Hell.
I just want to be with my
Aunt Joan,
my Great Grandfahter,
my grandpa.
I miss them,
and I want to be with them.
Maybe I will be.
If I can just get up the nerve
to take 40 little pills and drink
half a dozen shots.
I just don't know
how to get up
that nerve.
Say it!
Over and over
repeat it,
until it's the only thing
I know how to say.
Make others believe it!
Over and over
repeat it,
until it's the only thing
they know how to hear.
And then say it again.
Nestled in a cocoon
of self-inflicted pain,
I hide from the world.
I retreat into a world
of fantasy;
a world of lies.
I hate myself
for hiding behind
whatever I can find.
A computer screen,
a supposed lack of ambition,
stress,
a weight problem.
I hide because
I don't have
enough balls
to face the world;
to face my life.
I put on an
elaborate place
for everyone.
But I make sure everyone knows
it's only a play.
And it's sad and
pathetic and
disgusting.
But it's who I am,
who I have been
for 18 years,
and who I will be
forever,
because I don't know
who else to be.
I rationalize it
by saying that the
"REAL ME"
is a sad, pathetic person
that no one will give a
shit
about.
And I am
because that's what
I believe.
And so I lay,
curled into a
ball.
My self-wound
cocoon
of pain.
Sometimes I feel small.
Lost in the world,
lost in myself,
and very, very afraid.
Sometimes I feel angry.
Mad at the world,
mad at myself,
and very, very afraid.
Sometimes I feel happy.
Excitied about the world,
excited about myself,
and very, very afraid.
The chance to smile.
How often it passes me by.
I search for a laugh.
But I search in vain.
For some unknown force
has taken all happiness from my heart,
and made it impossible to smile.
And yet, I search.
Along my journey
I stumble, and trip.
I fall.
But I keep getting up.
And I look to the future.
To a time when I will smile.
To the day when I will laugh.
I laugh and smile along the way,
but only on the surface.
Inside it's still dark
and sad
and lonely.
How can they think that taking away
everything
will make it better?
How can they even begin to
believe that?
Yes, I'm sad, and confused
and scared.
And I feel lonely.
But this won't help.
I don't know what will,
and that scares me.
But so does not having
everything
I'm used to having.
It's like I'm being
Punished.
Sometimes I just want to stand
up and shout to the entire world
Just leave me alone!
Please
The tears burn my eyes now.
Tears of self-hate and self-pity.
They are tears from a past
I can't let go of.
They flood forward from days gone by
to taint the present,
making it as lonely and empty
as each tear was back then.
I cling to the past tightly with both hands,
darkening my present and
killing my future.
Memories are all I have,
no hopes or dreams,
no ambitions.
I allow the memories to comeb ack
like I allow the acidic tears to flow
with such passion
my heart will never let them go.
And so I die.
In a pool of my own tears I decay.
Nothing but a memory.
Perhaps I should cry tears of
blood.
Because every time I cry
a small part of me
dies.
Slowly, and painfully
my life disappears
before my eyes.
I don't want to feel this way anymore.
Not now, not tomorrow,
not ever.
I just want it to end.
I want the pain to stop,
the tears to cease;
and my life to survive.
It's okay
that I cry.
It's okay
that you upset
me,
and hurt me,
and make me
feel worthless.
But:
Heaven forbid
I should do that
to you.
Then I'm a
terrible person
again.
Or is it
still?
Am I ever
and 'okay person'
in your eyes?
I sit and wonder why I did it.
Why I watched something go
from fairytale perfect
to nighmarishly aweful.
I wonder why I kept trying.
Trying to hold onto something
that was never there.
I wonder how I can explain,
explained that you hurt me
more than you'll ever know.
I wonder if I hurt you.
If I hurt you even one-hundredth
of how much you hurt me.
I wonder
if I could
smile then.
Is it fair
that I end my pain
but cause my sister
more pain than she
should ever have to feel?
Just the thought
makes me cry.
I love her so muhc.
And I don't want to
hurt her.
I just want to run into her room
and throw my arms around here
and cry forever.
Because I've always been
the older one;
more mature
and responsible.
But now I'm just
sad, lonely and
scared.
