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lithiumlullacry's Journal
Rants and Shit <3
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Not so sane ramblings...
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February 07, 2009, 06:42:am
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There are times when I wonder when what precious little grasp I have on reality is going to slip. I know that when it does, I’ll never regain it. So long as there continues to be a “heart” beating within me, and a full moon that dictates my life, I’m going to continue to slip. The ledge is going to continue to get more fragile.
I’ve got very little hope left for my life.
I have to admit, I’m a bit worried.
People tend to let me walk on them now as it is. I’m abusive without meaning to be usually. What happens when I snap? Will verbal become physical? Will physical abuse turn deadly?
I paint myself to be a bad ass at times. It’s a mask, usually. If I act like I can’t be touched, I feel like it’s the truth from time to time. What happens, then, when I blur my masks together and I become even more violent than I am already?
It’s not like anyone fucking believes me whenever I express my concerns when it comes to my mentality. My mother certainly doesn’t believe me. If she did, I’d be in a mental hospital like she threatened when she finally fucking noticed I had been cutting years ago. Which is funny, considering I’d had the cuts on my arm for a fucking month before she finally saw it. I hadn’t even been hiding them. Observant, no?
It’s funnier, really, how she says I’m perfectly fine. A little depression here and there is normal.
And yet she wonders how people put up with me.
I wonder, too.
It isn’t like anyone ever fucking stops me.
My ex girlfriend lets me lie to her, and verbally abuse her, like I did back when we were together. She tells me she knows she’s like one of those stupid bints that stays with the man or woman that abuses her (whether verbally, physically, or whatever) because she loves them too much to stop it. It makes me fucking sick whenever she tells me it’s okay, that I pretty much have no fucking reason to apologize.
My best friend lets me hit him and degrade him. I insult him all the fucking time and I treat him like shit.
My fiancé? She pretty much lets me treat her like shit, too. She apparently, stupidly, thinks the fucking world of me, though fuck if I know why.
I think back on these, and I wonder why the fuck I ever wondered why I haven’t been able to have a working relationship of any kind.
In all honesty, I’m better off dead.
Maybe then people could be happy.
It’s not like I’m good for anything, anyway. I don’t deserve happiness, I don’t deserve love, and I sure as hell don’t deserve life.
Mother told me that when she was giving birth to me, there were complications. Something about how we were killing each other, and if I was born any later, either I would have died, or I would have killed her.
I think back on this, and I wonder why the fuck I was allowed, by some apparent “miracle”, to live.
I mean, for fuck’s sake. I could have killed my mother even before I took my first breath. That’s a special kind of fucked up right there.
Speaking of, I have to admit that I rather regret ever letting mother know I wasn’t straight. I wish it had been just a phase like she claimed it was shortly after I told her.
I wish I had gotten it out of my system when I was thirteen and had gone back to dating boys. At least then, something would have made my mother proud. She keeps trying to get me to go out with Cody, even though she knows my feelings on that. I think she just wants both of her girls to grow up in a world they’re welcome in. My sister’s already given her a grandchild, and she’s going to be married to a man that truly makes her happy. She, at least, has done something right in her life.
I guess that makes me the failure in the family.
I’ll never be able to have a wedding. I’ll never give her grandchildren. I’ll never have her approval and acceptance. I’ll never be what she hoped.
My granddad tells me he accepts whoever I may be, whether I’m a lesbian, or straight, or whatever. Sometimes, I tend to doubt that.
Sometimes I even doubt if even my sister accepts me for it, despite us not being so different in that aspect.
I don’t know what my grandmother thinks, because I don’t even know if she knows.
And my step dad? Jesus fuck, if he ever knew, I would not be welcomed in this house ever again. I’d be kicked out faster than I had been when I ran away from home during the time I had been living with my grandparents years ago.
You know…to be honest, I tried being with men again. I slept with one. Even fell in love with one, but for the life of me, I could not get over the fact he was…well…a he. Probably did it just to see if I could maybe force myself to forget I ever liked women, or to force myself to endure it just so I could be normal in one aspect. Just so that I could make at least one person proud of me.
It’s never going to happen.
I’m just set up for complete and utter failure in life.
I’m not motivated enough to get an education, so real jobs are out of the question. I could care less about my health (my sister says I’m going to die by 25. I rather agree). I’m a lesbian. I’m not smart, despite what people say. And I certainly can’t get by on my looks, considering how fucking hideous I consider myself to be. (For those wondering why I have so many pictures, it’s more because I’ve been trying to lie to myself. It’s not working anymore.)
I’d rather sit on my fat fucking arse and play games on the computer or my 360 than go out and fucking get my GED or even a job that doesn’t require that or a diploma.
I can’t keep a promise to save my life unless it’s a promise to cause physical injury to someone else, or something else that’s completely not good. Just ask my ex girlfriend.
I don’t believe in God. I fucking refuse to.
I can’t keep my big fucking mouth shut, either. It’s getting to the point where even mother tells me she fucking terrified of what I’m going to say next when I decide to voice my opinions or thoughts.
Not to mention, there are times when I know I should really shut the fuck up, and yet I just cannot stop myself. I dig the hole deeper and deeper until there’s nothing left to do but fall in and hope I die before I hit the bottom, burst into a million pieces when I do hit, or suffocate when I get buried by the weight of the pain and the hatred I’ve caused.
Even sadder, I hope every goddamn fucking night that I get killed every time I leave the house. That every night I go wait for Cody in the front yard when we decide to spend time together, I get abducted and get what I’ve deserved for so long. Whether that be raped, tortured, abused, and/or killed, never to be found.
I honest to-fucking-Hell-and-back just wish someone would kill me.
Fuck knows I haven’t got the balls big enough to off myself. And no, that’s not a good thing.
Seriously, does that seem like a fucking sane thing to think? I didn’t think so.
I’ve tried to kill myself a few times before. Just to see if I could do it. Being my luck, of course I obviously didn’t die, which really rather figures.
Then again, I tried to take the pussy way out each time. Pills, and lots of them.
If I’d just taken a fucking knife and shoved it into my throat or temple, I wouldn’t be worrying about my grip on reality and sanity right now. I’d be in Hell, where I belong.
But maybe this is my Divine Punishment. Living. Fuck knows I hate being here.
I actually like to think that the life we live here is Hell. That the fire and brimstone bullshit doesn’t really exist.
But who the fuck am I to say such things?
Either way.
My thoughts have gotten darker and darker each passing second that not even cutting makes me feel better. That really fucking sucks, to tell you the truth.
Normally I can combat pain with pain, or at least distract myself from mental anguish with self-inflicted physical pain, but everything I do slowly continues to become utterly fucking useless.
Let’s just hope that I don’t fall anytime soon. If I had the option, I'd rather wait until no one would remember me when I did fall apart (completely) finally.
If you actually read this all the way through, I'm not looking for sympathy. I'm not looking for someone to tell me it will all be okay. I don't give a fucking shit if you feel the same, or if you feel differently. I'd much rather you keep that crap to yourself, thanks. (I know that someone will ignore this. If I must, I suppose I'll just turn off my comments.)
I suppose the true point of me even writing this piece of shit is to give someone a bit of an insight of who I really am, if they cared enough. I know that everyone that might actually read this will think 'omfg, what an emo'...yeah well, I've never denied that whenever someone actually said that to my face. Say what you will. It's probably true, anyway.
This is supposed to be a warning.
...and an apology, though an admittedly terrible one. An excuse, in some eyes.
I dreamed I was missing;
you were so scared, but no one would listen,
'cause no one else cared.
After my dreaming, I woke with this fear.
What am I leaving,
when I'm done here?
So if you're asking me, I want you to know...
When my time comes, forget the wrong that I've done.
Help me leave behind some reasons to be missed.
Don't resent me,
and when you're feeling empty,
keep me in your memory.
Leave out all the rest.
Leave out all the rest...
Don't be afraid of taking my beating.
I've shared what I've made.
I'm strong on the surface;
not all the way through.
I've never been perfect,
but neither have you.
So if you're asking me, I want you to know...
When my time comes, forget the wrong that I've done.
Help me leave behind some reasons to be missed.
Don't resent me,
and when you're feeling empty,
keep me in your memory.
Leave out all the rest.
Leave out all the rest.
Forgetting, all the hurt inside you've learned to hide so well.
Pretending, someone else can come and save me from myself.
I can't be who you are...
When my time comes, forget the wrong that I've done.
Help me leave behind some reasons to be missed.
Don't resent me,
and when you're feeling empty,
keep me in your memory.
Leave out all the rest.
Leave out all the rest...
Forgetting, all the hurt inside you've learned to hide so well.
Pretending, someone else can come and save me from myself.
I can't be who you are...
I can't be who you are...
Mood: Really fucking terrible mood...
Music: Acid Bath: Scream of the Butterfly
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