Passing me by
16 November 2003 @ 9:00 pm

Sometimes I wander if the world is just passing me by. Like I'm standing still and the world revolves without me.

Isn't there more than this? Isn't there life after highschool? It's been a couple years now, and all I see is working then dying. I mean, yeah, I get wasted every now and again, the sex is unbelievable But that's all there is to it?

Maybe I've fucked up, maybe I missed my stop.

...

She wakes with a cold dawn brushing harsh loving strokes across her face. She feels it instantly, that icy twang from inside, she is alone. The events from last night come back in a frightful rush.

Bloodstains on the sheets, the familar sting in the crooks of her arms and the inside of her wrists. It looked like a tornado ran throuh her room - things smashed beyond recognition, posters torn and hanging in shreds of what's left. Her face feels crusty and that sweet coppery smell hung in the air.

She was doing so well too. 17 days this time.

She remembers crying turning into racking sobs turning into yells turning into lung draining screams. Throws things, smashing, breaking, destroying.

Razor blade, blood, alcohol. Rub it in, feel the sting. Smear the blood. That is what makes you real, that is what makes you beautiful, makes you human.

Moaning, she stumbles to the bathroom. Flicking the switch, she can't help but sneer. Scrawled in blood above a bloody handprint is:

Older Entries
This is the end of it. - 29 March 2004
Dream On - 22 February 2004
Until the Day I Die - 24 January 2004
It hurts to love him - 22 December 2003
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