ndslotesse's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Broken Dear Diary, There's something fucked up going on inside of me and I don't know what it is. It's as if my heart was beating up my stomach and my lungs are getting caught in the crossfire. I'm a fucked up a chick with a bad head-ache, I might just shot someone to ease my pain. Today hasn't gotten better and I guess if you think about it, there was nothing really wrong with it. I think I'm just a fucked-up average teen who can't handle problems because she thinks that the world revolves around her. I am a spoiled brat. And I have ultimately become the person I hate. I can't take pain and I am too dependent on people. I wish I didn't need them because they don't make life easier. They make it harder to bear. It's stupid to think that loving someone or having someone by your side eases the pain because it doesn't. It hurts even more because your stuck with this diillusinoed fantasy that they're going to save you but they don't. You're dissapointed because you've waited forever to be saved and now that you thought that someone was there telling you that they love you, nothing's changed, and the pain is still throbbing. And the war in your body is still going on. I feel dirty. I want to scrap the excess dead skin of my body, get rid of the bacteria and germs, I want my body to be cleansed, and no matter how hard I scrub the dirt won't fade. It's stuck on me like an everlasting scar that hurts my inside. Scott and I got into a fight last night. Whatever. I guess it shouldn't matter because I know we'll be okay because we always are. I'm always better. He's always better. We're always better together. I'll never forget what he told me one night that we were fighting. He just stopped the conversation and was like, "May, why do we fight anyway? Why don't we just stop? You know that we don't mean what we say and we are in love. We might be upset tonight but everything will blow-over because we always get through it. You know that you and I will be madly in love tomorrow and not care about this tonite. So why not just end the fight now? Sooner rather than later." We ended it that night. And no matter how hard I hurt that moment, I'm okay when by the next day because I can't stand the fact that in a few months I'm going to be leaving and I don't want to spend my time upset or angry. It's just that sometimes, I feel so unloved. I think it's part of my personality to believe anything bad that comes my way and wallow in it, making it a lot bigger than it is. So there I am, rolling around in a little lie baking it with yeast and making it rise a thousand feet. I'm a stupid bitch sometimes. He's not my dream guy. I'm not going to lie. I'm not even going to say that he's almost there. He's not the artistic, cafe-inhabiting, library-loving, literature-educated, cultured, philosphical, musician, macho-well-built-lax-player, or anything that I made up in my dreams at night when I dreamt about being a princess and having a prince rescue me from reality. He's not any of those things. And sometimes I get sad. I wonder if that guy out there, that is all of those things, is waiting for me and I'm not there because...I'm here. I have this sort of dissapointed feeling of reluctance. And I wonder what I'm doing here. I wonder if I've lost my mind. I wonder if I've lost myself because I love him with all that I have. I wonder if this good for me or not because sometimes I tear myself apart. I become so dependent when I promised myself that I came first when it came to guys in highschool, or maybe even after, because love doesn't exist. I'm being this double-faced bitch. And if this doesn't work out. If this turns out to be what I thought it would be like when I first met him in the beginning...then I'm going to die in a way that no one could explain, even after all these millions of years, no one will die the way I'm going to... if we aren't truly in love. The kind that I need to live. How dare LIFE give me a taste of what it's like to be happy and then rip it from my grasp the moment I learned to hold it. So, I'm broken, please don't hold me, 'cause you'd feel the splinters protruding from my wooden heart. So let me cry tearless tears, there's no point in ruining my mascara. Starve me because there's no point in nurishing a body that's going to decay in a 100 years. Break me. Shake me. Kill me. I can't stop thinking that when I move, he'll make love to someone else. It's killing. I'm crying now. Good-bye. With care, 5:06 p.m. - 2003-03-26 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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