a primal need to blossom . life. so beautiful. eager. drowning in the presence of its loyal patrons. i craved interaction with their simultaneously occurring auroras. god the beauty in fostering one another’s creativity. im so in love that i cannot stop smiling. feeling the tremors, laughters, intimates of society gives me butterflies. i never want to go home.
but mistakes came easily to me. judgement comes easily to them. “odd.” a infinite circle of failing, refocusing and failing again. begging the world for peace. i ask god to remove their eyes from my wrist. i ask the universe to send me a single soul to understand me as i am. how can they when im not making sense? exhausted. begging for acceptance. cloaked in misery. kissed by hatred. every chain mail, and rail road track, and shooting star and lucky penny i beg the stars to make me less. make me like them. make me feel less. i will do anything to be less.
i sit delicately in front of the mirror with the wire in my lap. hours pass. i pull at the excess disgust swaddling my beloved brain. i quiet her screams. i cant explain the detachment we feel for each other. my mind drizzled with her remarkable intelligence; my soul plagued with immense hatred for my entirety. its time. pierce the skin. “if you cant control their actions, control your reaction” pull tight. “ugly females should say less.” drill through the jaw. “the world would be a better place if you werent in it.” i lace the wire between my jaw. promising myself the sheer pain is nothing compared to the greatness of being less. it takes me months to get it right. the lace is beautiful. before i know it, my voice leaves. the decadent cravings for socialization leave my body. there is no reason to leave my bedroom; i have nothing left to say.
hatred is such a passionate emotion. is that why so many people feel it for me? my mind shrivels without the nutrients she needs to survive. finally. their laughs echo around inside my empty skull. i carve their words into my bones; in case i ever try to forget. the knives in my back eventually pierce my soul. i encourage her to bleed out. i dont care if it ever gets better. my spirit decays. my emotions rot. finally i feel the ominous weight of
2 thoughts on “nothIng”
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Don’t be less — you are more!
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