Yeah. Like I said. One of THOSE nights.

1900mg of amatryptaline. Untouched, razor-sharp blades. Cheap booze. The air smells of roses and blood even though I haven't done anything, the whole house is thick with it, it's choking me.

...just a faded fucking reminder of who I used to be...

I know, I know. Spare me the lectures. I can do without pity, too. Part of me is quite aware of how good my life is, of why I shouldn't be thinking like this, of how stupid it would be to even consider being depressed, let alone how stupid it is to BE this depressed. I know this is unreasonable. Wrong.

I can't quite manage to make myself care.

I haven't really talked to Torian in days - my own fault, gods know she's been online often enough, but I've been hiding, or dealing with company, or too on-edge to want to talk to anyone. If I'm going to disappoint her one way or another, I'd rather not do it in person, t'be honest.

and boys are so cruel
so don't let them find you tonight
and girls are so vain
so put them behind you tonight
I'll cast you a spell
a magic where everyone plays dead forever
and after tonight
they'll never remind you...

thinking hurts and thoughts don't rhyme
to those of us who've never tried
to find the face behind our lipstick smiles
and as our pretty faces die
our broken hearts will wonder why
the makeup just won't hide the scars of time

I already know I'll be drugging myself to sleep tonight. If I don't, I ~will~ do something stupid, and I'm still clear-headed enough to fight the urges. It's getting harder, though. I'd things to draw strength from, things keeping me borderline sane... and they've been pulled away, hidden, no longer mine to use. I feel like I'm drowning.

...blow it out and save all her ashes for me...

I want to scream.

curse me
sold her
the poison that runs its' course through her
pale white skin
with strawberry gashes all over all over

I want to cry.

she said
kill me faster
with strawberry gashes all over all over

I want to let everything go.

I'm sick of worrying, sick of caring, sick of feeling. I would give anything to have the aches and drama and frustration and desire and pain just GONE...

I lay quiet
waiting for her voice to say
some things you lose
and some things you just give away
scold me
failed her
if only I'd held on tighter
to her pale white skin that twisted and withered away from me
wait for me
watch me
lose her
it's almost like losing myself
give her
my soul
and let them take somebody else
get away from me
watch me
fault her
you're living like a disaster
she said
kill me faster
with strawberry gashes all over all over me...

I could turn off winamp, turn off the computer, shut it all down... and I'd still hear the music. I spent nearly an hour curled up in the bedroom with a pillow over my head and I could still hear it. It doesn't stop. It never stops. I'm so fucking tired and still it won't go silent.

Even the parts of me that had been optimistic are falling silent tonight. It doesn't matter where my mind goes, what I try to remind myself with, nothing helps.

It would solve so many problems, too. One less mouth to feed. No more medical bills. There would be room for someone else. Everything would change.

I write here because it's either pour it out onto a page or act on it. I don't want to talk about it. I don't want to talk about anything. Odds are good tomorrow I'll wake up feeling better, extremely embarassed about this, and I'll be fine for another month or two.

And y'know, if that's not the case, I can always do this later, right? No need to do it now. Better to wait.

...I'm tired of waiting, too.