Random stories, poems, thoughts, fictions.
Some are old, some are not.
Random stories, poems, thoughts, fictions.
- Created By UnknownKey
It loomed over every decision I made, worked its way into every love affair, inched, crawled, and eventually penetrated my mind. It was the thing that made me stop doing things as a carefree child, and under its control I was but a quivering, ever shrinking victim.
I was, perhaps, a masochist. Holding tightest to the thing that made me hurt the most. I've never cared about the scars on my body that I inflicted, because they would never counter the scars in my head - the ones no one even knows exists.
"That boy is a little touched." I was sitting at a bus stop, staring at my drenched and muddied shoes. I looked up through the rain to see an elder gentleman looking my way. I laughed at the term. A bitter boy of fourteen laughing at the fact someone had said 'touched' in regards to his mental state. I only reminisced back on what had made me so 'touched', shoving my hand deep into my pocket and tracing dull corners of the black and white domino I had hidden away. I had been touched indeed. The corners of my lips went up as I recalled it, but my eyes were full of self loathing. I didn't laugh because it was funny, I didn't smile because I was amused. I did it because it was all I could do to keep from throwing myself from the highest building.
I'm working on a story in my spare time. I don't know what I'm going to ever do with it, probably nothing. But whatever. It doesn't matter. it keeps me from getting bored. Its 4am and I'm going to see my step sister is all goes well... don't want to be out for that.
I learned something about cats that bothered me. They like mice. Not just to eat, or to chase, but as entertainment. Batting them around like toys, letting it think it got away just before tackling it and letting the cycle begin again.
I think thats why he did what he did to me. There was nothing sexual about it, he just liked watching me squirm. He liked seeing what I would do. Maybe he liked the look on my face.
I think I can understand it a little bit. Where as I've never, and shall never, do what he did to me to anyone, EVER; I always liked causing reactions. I liked saying nasty words around adults when I was a child to see them cringe, laugh, or yell at me.
As an immature person I sometimes feel like I can blame every problem I've had on him. Anger, fear, Sexual confusion, and even my depression, on what he did to me. But I doubt all the blames rests on him.
I sometimes wonder if there was something I could have done differently to avoid it all. I sometimes wonder if it would have stopped if I told someone. I sometimes wonder if my mom would have left him. I wonder if he was the reason I started hurting myself, why I stubbed out cigarettes on my arms, scratched at my wrists, reached my hand out and grabbed onto a rack in a 450 degree oven. I sometimes wondered what became of him until I asked my mother over the phone. She said he was married with kids.
Now I wake up in the middle of the night and wonder if he does the same thing to them that he used to do to me. My mother never knew that as soon as she hung up the phone I threw up. There is this uneasy feeling in my stomach that has never gone away, making me wonder if his kids will feel this way when they grow up, and if so, could I have stopped it if I had just been able to say something.
I try not to think about it. I try to fill my head with other things, like school, like friends, like coffee, like animals, music, cigarettes, mindless television, All to block out what it already inside of me. To no avail. Sometimes at 2AM I'm still up, pacing, listening to music, wishing desperately I could fall asleep and not dream for once.
I have to be up early tomorrow for school, so i should probably get to bed soon. I already have to be up in five hours... just enough sleep to not die. LOL X)
I look everyone in the eye
to know that I am recognized
All the people I scare
with how intently I stare
It feels like power
hour after hour
charging till I'm full
and feeding my black soul
All I seem to eat are those looks
locked away in my room reading books
I sometimes prick my fingers
the pain goes away and blood lingers
All the proof I need to prove I'm alive
Some live to live, but I live to die
I tried saying the words, can't bullshit myself
won't help self with books of someone else's self help
I don't think I would be brave enough to die
To scared to give in, to pussy to try
I ease myself to sleep with the thought I won't wake
And I pray every night 'the lord, my soul to take'
But I wake all the same
arms dipped in red shame
a stamp of a life i can't seem to shake
I'm a froad, I phony, a liar, a fake
I'm going to bed, sleep is my best friend
die for the night, and wake up once again.
But that moment of dreaming
is all I need right now.
I am going to bed now... I'm really tired, and its 3am.
I'm not going to think about her.
I'm not going to think about her.
I'm not going to think about her....
...not even for a moment.
I'm not going to think about her the way she smelled nice.
I'm not going to think about her square glasses pushed down her nose.
I'm not going to think about her blond hair parted in the center
or how she tucked it behind her ear.
I'm not going to think about the freckles she had.
I'm not going to think about how she would grab my hand in class and write things all over it in marker.
I'm not going to think about how she would always ask for a kiss instead of waiting around for me to get a hint.
I'm not going to think about her dog named Eliot, her cat named Franny.
I'm not going to think about how she made eggs just the way I liked them.
I'm not going to think about how she would try to braid my short hair on the bus.
I'm not going to think about how she would always save me the orange skittles cause she knew those were the only ones I'd eat.
I'm not going to think about spending our lunch break in the bathroom, drawing dinosaurs on the bathroom wall.
I'm not going to think about walking her dog for her.
I'm not going to think about the time she tried to push me into the pool and I dragged her after me.
I'm not going to think about our idea for an under water kiss.... or how stupid we felt when we almost drown.
I'm not going to think about stealing her math book and writing notes she would find later.
I'm not going to think about how I really thought I was going to be happy.
I'm not going to think about what she is doing tonight.
I'm not going to think about how she found someone else.
I'm not going to think about calling her because I know she is with someone who makes her more happy I ever could.
I'm not going to think about how lonely I am right now.
WARNING: Triggeringg/ mentions and hints at self harm and suicidal thoughts. If it makes you uncomfortable, please don't read.
Smile like an idiot
like there is nothing wrong at all
holding a knife in my hand
as I dance wall to wall
When it all goes to hell
which is where I'll soon be
run the knife on your skin
and let your blood run free
If thats not enough
and when is it ever?
Put a gun to your head
and leave life forever
When life leaves you lonely
and you're out on your own
Just slit down the road
just make sure you're alone
If you don't want the pain
or to see yourself die
just go to the bridge
and pretend you can fly
I'm in my bed, crying
not with sadness or grief
with my face in the pillow
I cry in relief
I made it through another day
I can sleep until light
Its never a battle
to live through the night
My dreams give me something
real life cannot
Peace and comfort
that through, the day I forgot
I'm not sad today. But I yesterday when I wrote this. Its the pain meds (Fractured my left foot) clashing with my normal meds. Its messing with my moods. No worries though. I'll be off them by next weekend.