I usually come on here and post poems, I try to organize my thoughts into phrases and rhymes... but not today. What I say next may or may not be true, and I will not assure you either, because either way you may or may not believe what I say. Last night I lay in bed, asking myself questions. After being through alot... so much... I asked why? I had basically shut out all the people who cared about me, and lost the one I love... because of a feeling? A fucking feeling? The feeling of the drugs... not being normal... not being sober. The feeling used to be a new one... like a breath of fresh air after being in a cigarette infested room full of toxins. Like emerging from a pool... timing with your little cousin who could stay under the longest. Now, it was just not normality. I had stopped trying to discover new things when I was under the influence and started to just lay there and enjoy being "fucked up". And this burned my soul. It made me realize that I was going against everything I ever promised myself. Then I realized another startling truth... that I wasn't even doing these drugs for the sake of doing them... it was just... I had lost everything for them. They were the only thing I had left, they were what I based my whole life around. Scoring new drugs and finding ways to do them without my parents finding out. It was like an ongoing game. Either way, I was losing. The grief that built up inside me was bad. I stared up at my picture of Kurt Cobain... and I started writing a suicide note. I wrote for a long time, leaving little messages for each of my friends that meant alot to me. I was at 2 pages when I thought... I thought : was I really going to do it? I had it all planned out.. a foolproof way that would leave no question of being brought back... I won't share this because I don't want to be any more morbid than I am already being. I sat there and just thought. I went over my whole life in a few minutes. I must have thought of every single person I ever met. Then I thought about why I was doing this. And my conclusion was because I couldn't stand living anymore. I thought and thought... and then I realized that I was going to be weak... not that I think suicide is for pussys, because if anything I pussied out. I don't really know what I am getting at, or why I actually wrote this on here... I guess I just had to get this stuff out of my system. I felt alot better today, after I downed some Morgans, and then after that I just got depressed again because I realized I had learned nothing from the night before. I got up and looked in the mirror. Everything started to go black, I just thought it was a headrush, I get them alot, prolly because of all the drugs I have done. But the headrush turned into me thinking "I am going to pass out" and then I felt myself fall on the floor. In my head I saw myself laying on the ground, I convulsed twice and right then I thought it was all over. Suddenly my surrounding slowly came back to me, my body tingled all over and I heard my parents coming up the stairs. I ran upstairs, in fear of them seeing me. And then I went in my room and watched a movie, and that brings me here right now, writing to you about what a failure I am. I wish my life would have just ended earlier today, because I know I will never commit suicide, I probably couldn't even manage to do that right. I'd fuck up on that just like on everything else in my life. I just wish....
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*Something in the way*
It's driven me before and it seems to have a vague haunting mass appeal, but lately I'm beginning to find that I should be the one behind the wheel...
AKA: EISNOTASSWEETASU
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*Something in the way*
It's driven me before and it seems to have a vague haunting mass appeal, but lately I'm beginning to find that I should be the one behind the wheel...
AKA: EISNOTASSWEETASU
