In Control

In Control

Wednesday, November 6, 2013

Burning Up The Past, Throwing Away My Future

 It's sad when nobody knows you, when people you know become people you knew. Here's to the past-why won't it go up in flames? It's burning in the back of my mind for the rest of my days. I'm having a hard time describing how I feel. I don't feel one thing I feel everything weighing me down, down, down, down. It's funny how the one person you would take a bullet for tends to be the one behind the gun. Yeah. That's how we all feel when someone we love starts hurting us until we don't even remember what love is anymore. Sometimes I wonder if it's even worth trying anymore. You know what? I'm past that stage now. I've been let down so many times. I've died inside so many times when I deserve to be alive. It's not worth trying anymore. When I'm sad I shove my headphones on and ignore the world the same way they ignore me. Blasting my music, I know that at least the people don't know me... still don't care about me. But at least they don't hate me the way everyone else does. I've seen you cry way to many time when you deserved to be alive. So I'm going to burn up my past and throw away my future. I'll live in the moment. The most pain I can feel right now is nothing. An empty space where my heart used to be.

Wednesday, October 30, 2013

Paper Heart Paper Soul

When I look into your eyes, it's like watching the night sky or a beautiful sunrise. 
   Then there's mine. Inky pools of mud. Possibly barfed up chocolate.
'Cause even the stars they burn. Some even fall to the earth.
   And some fall even farther and burn you-know-where.
I won't give up on us, even if the skies get rough, I'm giving you all my love. I'm still looking up.
   There's the difference between us, Jason Mraz. Other than the fact that you are a lot older than me and male, I consider myself a pessimistic pessimist. My view on life is that things won't be good on the short-term or one the long-term. I also consider myself a cutter, so... well, I haven't heard of very many of us being optimists. Sure, you could believe we'll get better, but that changes day-to-day with me. Even now, as I'm drinking underage and the keyboard is looking hazy, but it feels so good because I don't have to feel this. Pain.
   As I cry myself to sleep at night until I can't anymore for weeks, I'll think of this. I'll think of the judgement, the rejection, the neglection, the nightmares, the memories, and the only way I can go now. And then I'll remember what they say.
   I thought things were going alright, but then reality ruined my life.
    Cher Lloyd's Beautiful People must be true, because she says: It's beautiful people like you that get whatever they want...
   Obviously not me.
    Beer is making my mind hazy. Bottles of alcohol stolen from my mother, but why would she care? She's too drunk to notice if any's missing.

   My logic: You know you're pissed as hell (drunk) when you find yourself singing along to love songs. Why sing along to love songs when nobody could ever love you. 
   Sometimes I wish my suicidal thoughts would act on their own and kill me so I don't have to get up the guts to do it myself.
   If you saw me the way I am, would you look away because I'm so ugly or would you grab my bloody arms and tell me to kill myself? As far as I see, those are the only options. 
   Someone out there somewhere feels the same way I do.
     If you're reading this... It sucks, doesn't it?

   I pray that everything will be okay but we're making all the same mistakes everyday.
   They don't even care until someone dies. They didn't care about any artists or composers until they died. They'll probably never even care for me. But why don't they ever listen until you're dead?
   Why can't they see-why can't they help us when we're still alive? Because it takes death to make an impact that we might matter a little bit. Because death is permanent and they believe that scars fade- well let me tell you something. Scars may fade on our skin, but they never fade in our hearts. Once a paper is wrinkled it can never be the same again. I challenge you, make a paper heart. Normal white paper.

   Now ask yourself these questions: 
Have you ever been bullied? 
Have you ever been sad? 
Have you ever thought about suicide? 
Have you ever thought life was a hole and you're going to die in there? 
Have you ever had someone talk about you behind your back? 
Has anyone ever dissed you? 
Have you ever cried? 
Has anyone ever rejected you? 
Have you been ignored? 
Have you ever felt like nobody would care if you died? 
Have you ever felt you're just a joke? 
Have you ever been told you're weird or uncool? 
Have you been cyber bullied? 
Have you been sexually harassed? 
Have you been physically abused?
Has anyone emotionally abused you? 
Have you been mentally abused? 
Have you been neglected? 
Has anyone you knew died/ is dying?
Has anyone important to you drifted away and you feel like you don't know them anymore?
Do you feel like if there was a second you weren't broken you'd jump for joy? 
Has anyone lied to you? 
Has anyone did the opposite of what you wanted? 
Do you feel hated? 
Do you feel so alone or so smothered that you can't even breathe or you don't think anyone would hear you if you screamed? 
Have you ever hurt someone and felt bad about it? 
Have you ever self-harmed? 
Have you ever been told you're ugly, unattractive, or that people only like you for your looks?
Has anyone spread rumors about you? 
Have you been falsely accused? 
Do you feel like nobody notices you? 
Do you feel like you can't ever get it right no matter how hard you try, and you've tried?
Have you ever attempted suicide?

   Crumble the paper a little bit at every 'yes' you think in your head. Is your paper perfect? Can your paper ever be perfect again? 


   Maybe it's not about fixing what's broken anymore, because I know my paper heart's been ripped so many times, maybe it's about starting something new. 

   Well, I'm not a paper doll with a paper heart and a paper soul. I can't just go to the store a buy another one every time I rip it out of my chest to stop the pain. 

Is how my heart feels after being ripped and crumbled so many times.

Tonight, I'll drink until I pass out and I'll run from the nightmares because there's nobody to fight them away for me.

Mirror Mirror

 Remember, Snow White's Queen step-mother wanted her  step-daughter to do it. Why not me? Mirror Mirror why do you lie? Mirrors don't see what's inside.  But does anyone else? There's only me who sees this part of me that everyone else doesn't care to see. But Mirror Mirror on the wall, my stomach is huge, my boobs are small, but all you do is watch from the wall. 

Tuesday, October 29, 2013

How does it have to end?


If someone could print that for me and post it somewhere as a poster...Sending virtual love. <3

If There's No Heroes To Save You, You Be The Hero

Pulling people down won't get you where you wanna go. 
Every day I feel like I'm homesick for a place that doesn't exist. 
Don't you worry your pretty little mind, people throw rocks at things that shine.
Think before you say, it could save a life.
Suicide isn't cowardly. Wanna Know what's cowardly? Treating someone so badly that they want to end their life.
When people put you down enough, you start to believe it.
I don't remember what it's like not to feel broken.
She had to know the pain was beating on me like a drum.
You aren't big to pick on people who are small.
Calling me ugly won't make you any prettier. 
If people are trying to bring you down, it only means that you are above them.
Sometimes it's just easier to pretend I'm okay than to actually try to be.
Leave bullying to bulls. Be human.

I'm sorry I don't know how to be normal. I'm sorry you don't know how to live. I'm sorry I can't be pretty. I'm sorry you can't be nice. And I'm sorry. 
I shouldn't be asking myself why. I shouldn't be like this. Nobody deserves any of this. So, I'm sorry you don't understand.
But mostly I'm sorry that I have to be sorry. 

Friday, October 18, 2013


   I wish I could get kidnapped. Honestly. I feel like that's a safe, guilt-free (not that I have any) way to get away from my house. House, because it's only a house, because homes are where people are happy. That's the most untrue about my 'house'. I told my brother's best friend(not the getting away from home thing, just the kidnapping thing that I told him was because I wanted to have an adrenaline rush), the one I'm in love with who almost doesn't realize I exist in that way, and he promised that he will 'kidnap' me with my brother sometime in the future. So in the way I wanted or not, he still gave me a promise.
 Do promises mean anything, though? That's the real question. My mom promises. My dad promises. My brother promises. My friends promises.
 I've been rejected. I've been a victim of broken promises, broken hearts. BPBH syndrome... I'm suffering from Broken Promises, Broken Hearts syndrome. Yes, I just made that up, but doesn't it feel like that? feel like we're sick in side, feel like we're dead inside, so why should be fight, for our lives?
  I wish I'd been kidnapped. I wish they'd take me away. I've written books, stories, novels, none of them published of course, because who could stand to read MY writing? But they're always about someone with nothing. Someone who I wish I could be, because I know they get a happy ending. I shape their future, I'm important.
  I also know that if I die, someone else could finish my sh!t. Or they could throw it in the trash and all my characters would lie, asleep, underneath a mound of trash and dirt in a landfill.
  But I"m tired of broken promises, because they always break my heart. And I need to cut myself again because I'm getting sentimental mushy gushy emotional right now, and I'm tired of being weak. I'm tired of not mattering, and at least if I was kidnapped, I'd know I  mattered enough to be snatched up. If someone killed me, I'd know I mattered enough to be killed, no matter the reason.