I am pretty worried. I don't know what to do and I really have no one else I care to talk to about it with other than a few people, who've I've already talked with.
I mean I don't know.
I am just really scared.
I'm scared of what is going to happen and I'm scared of what I might lose from this.
I just really with I could find a way to get myself together, and just find out a fucking answer.
you know THAT, would be damn great.
I don't know who you could possibly think you are if you said you understood.
And if you truthfully do, then I'm very sorry.
It's like never escaping a terrible dream.
I used to have nightmares of being murdered by a man.
When I met my father for the first time he looked like that man in those dreams.
We live in the same town and we speak in letters that aren't even complete.
I don't know why you'd possibly want to think you understood.
And if you do, then you must feel my pain.
Can you not sleep at night?
Does your mind never stop?
I'm not saying you don't understand my daddy problems, over half of the country does, and no one longer cares. It's a common problem, and commonly ignored, and that's fine.
I don't really know if you understand.
My mind is tangled in knots that exist intertwined and tangled over and over until it hurts just a little.
The pain that is right in the center of your body, not what you call a heart, fuck that, in the mind, in the chest, there. Boiling up, it seeps through my eyes like tears, but if you understand, then you know that this is crying but not crying.
There are no sobs and shortenings of breathe, and your face has no expression.
I don't know why you'd want to be the person that understands, because when you hurt it eventually stops hurting and stops feelings. But with that I guess it's just another thing, and besides, I'm just another person in this world who doesn't know things and all of that.
I don't know why you understand, but if you do, I feel sorry for you.
Are you poetic, do you paint and scream when you write?
Or is that just the other half of the daddy problemed children?
I don't need you to understand.
So when you do, then what?
And if you do, now what?
The maniacs are crawling out of the addict
And the bugs are covering the halls
He'll find you again
And make you one of his dolls
The ghost are slipping through from under the door
and he's here again back for more
I think that the walls are going up in black
The door is locked so you cannot turn back
A pair of hands
In the dark push through
And throws you down
What will you be able to do?
The monsters are throwing festivals under your bed
and all of this is just your past
fucking slowly with you head.
