Muteness Scribbled down on Tuesday, 6 September 2005 3:34:28 AM
Dearest diary, Life is pain. Life is a needle the doctor shoved in my flesh in hope to numb my senses but it didn't entirely work. Life is being alone. No one hears you when you're crying. They don't. People are becoming zombies and you know diary, I am terrified. I still feel but others don't. I pretend I'm a zombie but when they walk away to their destination, I turn around and I cry my eyes out. Why do I endure this? Why do I share a life somewhere I don't belong to be? Diary, I feel so much hatred for myself for the appreciation that I do not have anywhere. No one likes me. This sounds really pathetic but it is as I am spelling it for you letter for letter: N O O N E L I K E S M E. Sometimes I no longer care about dictating parts of my life that happened. I was screwed when I was young, tried to be screwed in my childhood but it didn't happen because I started using my brains. No, I'm not someone with a high IQ. I think I'm pretty dumb, an imbecile. I tried and god, I've tried to be proud of my dumbness. At least something but it's nothing the world can accept from me. The world hates me and like I mentioned before I want to self-injure tonight. But I can't, something inside me highly screams no. It tells me to stop and wait some other time. It tells me that cutting over people is the sickest, dirtiest thing I could ever give in to. I should only do it when I feel narcistic, when I am lustful, when I feel pleasure. People don't or won't give a shit. They all want you to get screwed because that's what they wish for theirself. Why bother wasting my time with them? I won't cut tonight diary, I will listen to my innervoice. It was often right. I may hear voices but they never told me to kill myself or hardly, I don't know. They were friendly ghosts, who always told me to do whatever I wanted, what I inner mostly wanted. Not otherwise. Otherwise they'd blame me and I'd feel crappy. Very crappy. People. How much do I despise to live amongst you. Some of you were nice. But I hated people in general. They never understand you but were always there to pierce you through the ground, with the thought you'd reach the inside, the magma and burns yourself into ashes of nothingness. Everytime I talked to them I hated myself with each breath that I take, with all that I do, all the pieces and dots of myself. I hated myself beyond words so much more. That if it was possible to create a bomb, it would shatter me into unrecognizable pieces and blood spread all over your world. Over your beautiful lie. Your world that is a lie. Your lie of a world. Your masquerade. I hate myself so badly that I shall die. Either of a death chosen by my own hands, nature or an accident. I will die however and that thought soothed the agitated nerves inside me. Though I didn't feel I deserved death. In no way did I want to be with those people who also resided here on this planet once. I want to be N O T H I N G. I want to be unplugged like I never existed. If God exists I want him to scrap my name out of his list. I'm not going to cut tonight. I will not... but I will save this rage and turn it into something that may be useful in the future to create my final end. I am in love with L. I badly am... and all I did was provoke him laughter and say gentle words to him. I tried stimulating him into doing whatever his heart wishes to achieve in this crazy messed up life he saw as precious. I sometimes wanted his agression, other times I thought it didn't fit the person he wished to be. I have always struggled with my dark and light side. I can be very destructive and the next day a guru preaching a better world and place. I am a drugaddict on lsd or whatever drugs that causes hallucinations as everything I felt was nonsense but I believed all the bad ones. I'm surrounded by it, I live in it. I know he may never read this but I wished he knew I am in love with him... All I could think was having his arms around me, just awhile... even for a second. I would die happy... I would die knowing I accomplished something. Someone once saw me in the crowd and kept looking at me and did not forget me. But no one sees me. I might as well be a ghost... I shall never speak again. Except to you dear diary, no one will hear from me again. They shall be air just as I am for them. My life from now on will be selfishly and a complete muteness till I get what I deserve, what I most desire. The day I am a perished thought, nothing than a feather floating high lost in air, into nowhere till it reaches the stillness and the coldness of the ground. Suicide felt that way. (I can fly and bang, you're down) 'My soul will be free but my body forever cold'.

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