five;
will i forever be a marionette in someone’s hands? will i be forever used by the mastermind behind all of this?
maybe if i knew who it was, i could put an end to it. maybe if i could see them, look them in the eye, they’d release me. maybemaybemaybe…
nonsense.
i know who this is. i know who i’m trying to please. i know who wants me dead. i know it all, have always knows. what’s the use of naming it? ed? ana? what’s the point?
what’s the point of naming yourself someone else? it’s me behind it all; me. i am my own worst enemy. i wish i wasn’t, because it’d be so much easier to blame this on someone else, but i cannot. there is no one else to call out on this. no one else other than me. i did this. i’m pulling my own threads, i’m pushing myself nearer to the ledge. i’m the one killing me. i can’t even live with myself.
how weak does that make me?
-fourth/fifth of February, two thousand and twelve.
I’m Your Puppet - Gregory & the Hawk
I’m your puppet
I’ll learn to love it…
Weave a secret
I will sweep it
beneath the carpet
where you’ll keep it
How weak is that?
four;
i wish i could float away; up, up, far away, towards clouds where i could look down on the wonder that is this world. there must be nothing quite like it in our universe, nothing as amazing, nor nothing as cruel. from up above, it is lovely to gaze down on. the bluest of blues, wishing you’d drop a few of your own into them. the green where you’d love to twirl and run and giggle. the dry beige-yellow who doesn’t want others to be more beautiful than herself, so she destroys them as years pass.
yet having to take a few steps here, on this earth? those might cost many a sadness and tears. it is like fire, our home - beautiful from afar, nonetheless dangerous if you get too close. who knows which way of punishment you might receive, what is it that will burn you. might it be war, marching right to the front steps of your house? might it be illness, swallowing you whole? might it be a shot, fired from a certain distance towards you, piercing your body and making you go through agony?
or perhaps, it’ll be a single word or two, uttered from another person’s lips? maybe a tiny sentence that has the power to march right up to your soul and invade it, the ability to swallow you whole or the cruelness of dancing around in your mind as you try to compose yourself and show no one the agony you’re in. the deepest burns of them all is having a few words involuntarily tattooed into your soul; forever a reminder of how you’ve gone wrong.
and thus, all i can do is try to float away. the weight of memories brings me down every time i’m almost sure to succeed, but i know, i know, i know. one day i will.
-third of February, two thousand and twelve.
three;
depression hurts every part of life, of your surroundings. it hasn’t just rotten my soul, darkening it as moments slip away; it’s starting to destroy everything, all that is important and essential for me to survive. i cannot face my responsibilities - having to makes me upset and angry and scared. with fear, i realize how vital it is i do something because everything could be so much easier if those things weren’t on my list. my list. the one that keeps expanding.
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i can’t do this anymore. can’t they see how broken i am? i’ve fallen to pieces, the shallow mirror that i am, making people believe the perfect girl in their mind really does exist. a mirror, shattered by another one whose power was too strong for me to fight, i am now pieces with sharp edges, ready to defend myself if someone were to get too close. once a mirror, now facing years of unhappiness and bad luck.
i can’t break this spell, not when all i have is myself. not when i’m left on my own. not when they haven’t realized i’m far from being complete.
-second of February, two thousand and twelve.
two;
suicide; i’ve had to live through the process of crying for hours and sending prayers to God, hoping He would listen to me and others trying to reach Him. i’ve been the one thousands of miles away, asking myself where we went wrong. i’ve been the one wondering why they wouldn’t call immediately to learn how she’s doing. i am one who knows how awful and excruciating it is - the waiting, the asking..
nonetheless, i’m becoming less afraid of it by the day. it’s starting to seem as a way to seek peacefulness, a dark and empty, solitary bliss left unfound in this world. it could lead to an ethereal palace, God’s Kingdom, or to a gloomy scenery where all you see is darkness. a chance to lay your thoughts to rest as soon as you pronounce or think, a place where you’d find no regret, where you’d shed the old you thought by thought as the minutes pass.
thought by thought, you’d be sucked into that sort of universe, forgetting your previous life and worries. you’d never know of the pain someone had inflicted on you - as time passes, it would simply be left behind to rot and decompose, the same way autumn’s leaves find their end. an increasing part of you would be perishing like the seconds that have already left you, until you’re one with the universe again. ‘for dust you are, and to dust you shall return.’
somewhere quiet and dark, desolate and remote, i would love to be.
-first of February, two thousand and twelve.
one;
when you ask someone a question of such importance, you shouldn’t be satisfied with a simple shrug and and excuse both of you know doesn’t solve or explain anything.
then again, she’s one of the last people i’d confide in. i just couldn’t, couldn’t take her as a person who sincerely cares and wants to help. she may be - is - a thoughtful and warm soul, but i can’t. i don’t think there’s anyone of her kind i’d be able to trust in. maybe…?
if i could, no one would understand a thing, nonetheless; my tears would suffocate the babble of words pouring out of my mouth, just like shame suffocates any screams for help i’ve ever tried to let out.
impurity doesn’t seem to be an option in this world.
-thirty-first of January, two thousand and twelve.
I have the feeling that something has always been there…Like whether the thread that stretches itself from my hand’s palm is connected to a ‘somebody’ somewhere far away…That’s how it feels…But even if I follow that thread…There is nothing beyond it…The memories, the time, the shape that connects me with this person…I wonder where the pieces are…
it won’t be long…
(Source: ashleighwasalittlegirl)
