Thursday 2 February 2012 photo 1/1
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(I just need this picture to be out there, and this text)
There is a point in pain when you just stop caring. Caring about the pain, and caring about the people around you. They don’t see that because you don’t let it show. It starts at the same time that you start feeling numb. Like the whole body is just a shell with no nerves, and the emotions are there but not really there. You start losing sleep because you don’t see the point. You start doing things just to feel. Cutting, burning, freezing. In my case there was all of them, and walking, and reading. I started walking and reading at the same time. I hate when I have to sit down for to long, like in class. When I can’t read, or more like eat, books I start drifting away. To some kind of parallel universe. Because at some point the numbness always have to disappear, often when you can’t do the things you do to keep it up in everyday life. To feel the pain after so long is devastation and awful. It’s like stabbing knives all over the body, losing your family and have to see mofasa die as a five year old all at the same time. Okey, so I tried to be a little funny in this. But, no matter what I tell you. No matter how angry I seem to be at you. No matter how much I blame you for me feeling like this. It was never your fault. It was all mine. Cause if I even feel like this for that reason, it was my fault it ended the way it did. But, I don’t know. Do you need a reason to feel like this? I don’t know what it is. I’m so empty while alone. I don’t know what I feel, what I want. Nothing even helps anymore, that’s why I stopped trying. I walk around so mad at the world, when really I’m just fighting with myself. Okey, Glee quote. Anyhow, I know you probably just going to read this and think about it, then forget it. But it doesn’t matter to me. I don’t know if I’ll ever get out of it, but I know that you’re always going to be there for me. So what really matters has nothing to do with this. It has nothing to do with how it ended. It has nothing to do with love. What it has to do with is me not wanting to let go. Cause I can’t remember to be happy. I can’t remember how it is to not eat books, or take extremely long walks. This is getting long so I’ll stop writing but please, stay awesome. For me.
“the only real voyage of discovery consists not in seeking new landscapes but in having new eyes" – Marcel Proust.
Annons
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