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Scribbled down on Monday, 3 October 2005 18:40:29 PM |
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Dearest diary, Life is such a bore. I am only waiting everyday... I have nothing to do which is driving me crazy. This is some sort of news. Last Saturday a 30 year old man threw his 35 years old wife and 8 years old son from the fifth floor and joined them not much later into death by jumping himself. They were at a friends home when this happens. The man died immediately but his family passed away in the hospital. So jumping from the fifth floor can kill you. Why am I not jumping to have this all over? This complete annoyance I have to go through every single new day. I am tired of adding 'again' to each sentences. I was falling into complete repetition. Everything was a copy of the previous day. I want to scream right now. I'm t i r e d of this. Beyond tired. I feel so... this is so complicated.. There were many family drama's in this country this year. Usually these crimes were commited because the man wanted to get rid of his family for having a new lover or it was the wife who had a new lover and the husband was jealous and drove them all into the abyss. It's sad. Everything is so sad. Life is sad. Life has no meaning. If I could be on top right now with this wide smile on my bloody face, I'd smack whoever who offered me this, down. How could I change and be normal so... out of the blue? This crazy life I have been used to will never be erased, ever from my memory. I feel lifeless... I sit glued at the tv for there's nothing I can do. I don't bother. I watch women fighting, crying for the Miss America title and all I could think about was cutting myself up like the Scarred Princess out of the 13 ghosts movie. I wanted to be scarred all over and bleed, that was so much prettier than these smooth vanilla skin and tight stomach, attracting dirty, filthy minded. I wished I could live out my morbid dark thoughts on myself. I can't because I don't want to. I don't have energy... and all the effort it took to clean the puddle of blood and eventually taking care of each single wound was too much for me. My mom would find out if I wore my clothes as they got bloody because I don't wash them. I never do anything. I'm mentally fat from passiveness. From not doing anything. I crave death so dearly that it made me cry. Why am I not dead yet? Why can't I just get rid of myself right now? Of this sorry pathetic ass..? I'm so angry with everyone, but more with myself. It's unacceptable that my parents decided fo fuck each other and having my mother getting pregnant of me. Was three sons not enough? Why did she have to have another one? When I tell my mom that, she says I'm having a big mouth. Was it bad? It's her fault. Fine. I was here, right? You came here without asking and then they also asked you to work for your life to live, against your will. Life is such a cunt. I hate everybody. I don't know... and mainly I hate myself for being human like anyone else. I want to shake everyone awake from that stupid dream they saw as life. This all was a dream. It has to be. Life was so shamelessly treacherous. It betrayed you infront of your eyes. It slapped you with a tool hard in the face and broke your nose and made you bleed as your face throbbed, while it laughed at you hard in the face. Life was a fucking sadist who needs its balls to be cut off. How I wished I had that pleasure to do so. I sadly can't take this anymore. This year doesn't seem to want to end so fastly either. I hope to die... and I shan't regret killing myself not one second. Like D. said to me, it counted for me too: there was nothing keeping me here. The road that I was about to break into two, had only pain, sorrow, hatred, envy, anger awaiting me. I hate rap music, I do. But when I'm sad I feel better imagining that the gunshots I'm hearing are reaching my body in reality. I feel soothed in whoever preaching its anger. When I'm sad, only angry, dark music makes me feel better. Then it didn't matter who sang what or anything. |