collect me

I hate being away.
I hate being here.
I hate you.
I hate how much I love you.
I hate myself.
I hate people who hate everything.
I hate my family.
I don’t hate my family.
I hate people.
I don’t hate people.
I need to get away.
I need to be here.
I don’t want to go to school.
Fuck off.
Everyone fuck off.
No wait, come back, I need you.
What the fuck.
We had emotionless sex.
I cried.
I’ll cry again.
I’m sad.
I can’t be sad.
I can’t keep pretending I’m happy.
I need to be happy.
I am happy.
Distance.
Take yourself away so no one can hurt you again.

Kill me.
Kill me.
Kill me.
Do it or I’ll do it myself.
I swear to god, I’ll do it myself.

So do I take a chance with you and love? Or do I take the cowardly way out.
Peace and quiet.
No more thinking.
No more thoughts of you touching anyone else.
No more being sick.
Quiet.
No more regrets.
No more me.
No more cares.
No more fighting or yelling or people dying.
Quiet.
So quiet.
Like that time I passed out.
I’m happy.
I just can’t handle anything.
Depends.
Everything depends.

Will you please help me?
You know I’m not okay.
I am okay.
Don’t worry.

Fill yourself full.
So uncomfortable.
In every situation.
Wanting to cry and you have no clue.
You have no idea what you’ve done.
And he was just sleeping, and I was just sick on too many antibiotics.
Too much weed, too much drinking.
This isn’t me.

Sorry.
Liar.

I’m sorry to tell you.

YOU want someone to talk to? Ok.

Just.. ok.

I don’t even know what to say to anyone anymore. I don’t even know if I’m happy or if I’m sad anymore. You want someone to talk to. You want someone, to talk to.

Why are you still so sentimental to me when I feel nothing for you at all?
I can walk right by you and not even notice.
But I still am constantly reflecting on who we were, conversations we had, arguments, just the way we acted toward each other.

And maybe I am the only one that thinks about it so often. Because I know in my head that you don’t.

And seeing people I know who used to be couples, or in love, pass each other like they mean nothing, or even talking just as friends, I can’t help but try and imagine every single feeling they’ve felt since they met that person.

Why do I become so attached to ideas?

None of this was ever real and none of my feelings are actually real.
But that idea.
It’s so interesting.

I just hate it when someone tells me, “you’re all mine.”
Because of how true it is.
And then how I never get the assurance that “I’m all yours,” from them.
So eventually, they’re not mine anymore, or they never were. And even sadder, I’m still theirs.
And I guess these are the consequences I receive for my actions of wanting to know people deeper than anyone else.
Because when you want to learn the most about a person, you have to let them know about you.
I guess that’s when I start letting myself down.

I never want to feel anything, yaknow?
Just learn.
I just want to know things about people.
I want to know what the fuck goes through people’s minds.
I’ll never understand anyone. It frustrates me more than anything.

How can anyone find school difficult?
How can anyone treat someone so badly and be okay with it?
How can anyone be that accepting of stupidity?
How can anyone think that’s okay?
How can people fool around and have sex with people they don’t care about?
How can anyone be this scared to talk to people?

Why am I so scared of everyone?
Why am I not okay with myself anymore?
Why am I so sad and why do I miss certain people?
Why does that name make me hate you?
Why have I been involved with everyone I’ve been involved with?

How come I’m not happy yet? I should be happy.
I know I should be.

I am happy.
Really, I am.

I just wish someone wanted to know me. Know me. Me.
Me.
Me.
Me.
My thoughts.
My fears.
My likes.
My memories.
Things about me.
Why do I want to know everything about everyone, but not one person cares to know me?

fuck all ya’s

So man. I’m back to that point where I’m just losing all my emotions. Which is kind of cool I guess. For me.
It sucks for you. Which then sucks for me. Cause I really love you and shit.
But what can I do? Because let’s face it, if I didn’t have you in my life, I wouldn’t have to deal with any of this bullshit. Or a lot of bullshit actually.
And I’d probably feel better about myself.
And I’d probably focus more.
And I’d probably be calmer.
But fuck, as much as I think about how good things could be without you, I love you so much. And yeah, a lot of bullshit comes along from being with you, but it’s worth it because you’re always right there next to me through it all. Kissing me and hugging me and even yelling at me. And I love it. And I love you. And I would be so empty without you.
Yeah, I love being empty sometimes, but I don’t want to be empty.

And I don’t know what to do about the whole situation I’m in now.
And I’m really lucky to have you, and a fucking awesome friend, who I just love more than the world.
But it just makes me want to throw up ya’know?
I feel so sick. Everything she does.
I hate knowing that’s what some people think of me.
But what the fuck does anyone expect of me anyway?
If you want me to change something, let me know, yeah?

There goes all my fucking motivation.

I don’t know.
I feel so gone right now.
Alone, completely.
Not outcast by others, but by myself.

I really miss myself.
But I can’t get in touch with me anymore.
I’m so.. fucked.
Man what even what man ugh.

I need a fucking 30 year nap.

Rumor has it

Okay I get it. I’m a terrible person. People think I’m awful. I shouldn’t of done what I did, he loved me so much. He didn’t deserve it. He never did anything wrong. I’m a slut. I’m a bitch. Okay.
I’ve been agreeing with that for almost a year now. But you know what? I obviously didn’t want to be with him. And I hurt myself, if not more, than it hurt him or either of them honestly. I went about everything in an awful way, but you know, they weren’t helping and they made me feel just as bad.
If he loved me as much as everyone says, then wouldn’t we still be together? I tried. I tried for months. I tried up until recently and he just never cared. So fuck that. I loved HIM. He did not love me. I was in love with him. He was everything to me. People who know me would understand that, but everyone just assumed and felt so sorry for him. Both of them.
I did everything I could. And you know, I was tired of being in love with someone who wouldn’t even say hi to me.
And I moved on. And he already did. And he did too.
So who cares anymore I guess. I shouldn’t care anymore I guess.
It just makes me so fucking mad.
No one knows anything, and I hate all of you for trying to act like you do or act like you care.
And most of all I hate you, for getting all this sympathy from all these people and pretty girls and I was the one who was actually hurt.
You will never know how it feels.
And then even after everything that happened, I had to go through more shit with the boy I liked. And he made me feel even worse than I did before. And now I’m completely depressed and insane and I can’t trust anyone. SO BRA-FUCKING-VO GUYS.
THE ONLY REASON I STARTED HAVING SEX WITH THE GUY I WANTED NOTHING TO DO WITH WAS BECAUSE OF THE WAY ALL YOU ASSHOLES MADE ME FEEL. SO THANKS.
I’m just tired of everyone.
I just want to be with people that actually make me happy.
All this teenage bullshit is getting old and being jealous is tiring and thinking about all this makes me miss you, and hate you, and makes me want to be alone.
Fuck.
I hate every aspect of myself.
Isn’t that enough.
Stop making me feel worse.
I’m sorry ok?
I am sorry to everyone for everything.
I was just doing what I thought was right.
Ok. Done.
I’m gonna annoy Lucy now and be happy while I’m not at home.

I dunno man

But it’s like, I don’t see the point in trying to work on my body anymore. No matter how in shape I am, my face will always be my face and I will always hate it and I will always hate myself. So I don’t know, maybe I give up because I’m really tired of how I look and I’d need surgery to fix it and let’s face it I’ll never be that rich. So whatever I guess I’m done trying to improve myself. I’ll never be who I want and I’ll never look how I want.

Fuck, I just want to be hot and cool.

Sometimes you’re so cold.
And not your feet. That doesn’t scare me. I can warm those up.
It’s not your body, it’s not anything physical.
Sometimes it’s just how you act. How you are. Who you are.
And it scares me because I don’t want you to act on it.
I don’t want you to regret me for a second.
But you will, and you do.
I can live with that. I do it too.
Just don’t act on it.
In those seconds when you’re reconsidering us.
Don’t make decisions.
Wait it out.
I’ll be here when you’re cold and I’ll wait until you’re warm again.
It’s the warm that outweighs that cold.
You’re worried because you don’t feel like you’re good enough.
But I love all your temperatures.
I’m only scared because I’m not sure if you love all mine.

I guess I’ll never get why you’re with me and not someone else, and how it’d be so easy for you to change that.

I’m terrified but I’m in love with you.

I don’t know if I should be relieved that you can never tell when I’m sad or if I should be worried.