I only know what I am not.

I'm an anonymous rumor, more interesting the mind of others that in reality. Made to be something I'm not and getting an inflated ego because of it. 

Continuing headaches, I'm in a state of aching pain and running in panic because I should feel bad. I should feel bad about so many of my actions, and I should be ashamed of my dirty little secrets. 

Dreaming about the boy, the man, the awkward sex god; the man of my dreams. 

Giving away

           My body

                   to something fake because it hurts 

                                     too much to think I'll never find my dreams coming true. 

So fuck me olive boy, my dark passion, give me average sex and average security so I'll forget that I never get what I want. 

Running seems pointless after all, and to be honest, I prefer dancing. 

I feel broken.
The love of my life just said that nothing in his life has value or brings him happiness (he put extra pressure on nothing).
I'm included in this... And I have to admit, it's a special kind of pain..
I'm going numb
in the most hurtfull sense of the word..

and I wish he would think enough about me to look here, on all my internet journals and see, what goes on inside me
truth is though, something like that would never occur to him

I feel absolutely horrible, and maybe I even feel upset as well that I'm putting up with this treatment.. but mostly I just hate myself for being a selfish bitch

I am the Angel
Getting her brains fucked out
By God himself

She was a drug
And I couldn't commit
To neither being an addict
Or to being clean

There will be no more posting in here, for a little while.
Found my best friend in a leatherbound notebook and that
Is where I'll be writing for now
Or until
I love something enough
To put it on here
Or the other way around.

I've got no normal self control, only self-inflicted little tortures of my own.
I've got plenty of those though, under rose cheeks and blooming secrets.
These self-inflicted, little tortures, plenty as they are, they keep me balanced in a way, my mind is telling me
is unhealthy.
How little I care, this so-called me, my self that no longer lingers.
I've floated into an empty state, for once, I don't even care.
An empty state, yet so filled up, with whispers and vows, promises and beliefs, and beyond all, lies and make-belief.
I've danced myself, into an unforgiving sea, of beauty and smiles and everything sweet.
Flowers have taken over my hair, pastels my life, and all those glittering nail-polishes are drenching my fingertips.
I surround myself with colours and grins and music and love, and yet
everything
is so..
disturbing.

I am not fulfilled, my hunger is very much present.
The hunger for chaos and pain and suffering
that's been present
forever in my life.

I'm getting two needles shot through my tongue in a minute
to remind myself

This
Is who
I am.

if only
I was capable
of containing such beauty