| I know most people like to 'start over' at the beginning of year. But my time is now. I'm going to create a new blog. If you'd like the link, please message me. I've had this blog for almost three years. Time for something new.
I love you all.
Belle.
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there were all these years that i loved you and now they're gone and i don't even know who you are anymore. but that's fine, because i'm losing myself also. and i'm really sick of writing about you and hopeless love because i don't care anyway. i guess i miss it sometimes because it made me feel real and normal, like i was an actual person. but now i'm just tired and crying and i have charcoal all over my fingers. i tried all these things, i took all these pills. i saw my blood and washed the dirt from under my nails. nothing's going right anymore. i don't like when my daddy isn't home. i don't like when she calls me baby. i don't like when they expect so much from me. i don't like the things that are happening around me and i don't like the fact that i never have choices anymore.
I WAS SO CLOSE.
i was nearing that freedom. i was nearing peace. and i'm just breaking down. and i'm disappointing everyone. i don't fit into anyone's life. he doesn't call me anymore. she doesn't miss me like she used to.
i feel every little stab in my heart like it's piercing my eye. i'm strung out, i'm stretched too far. i'm stressed and i'm getting fat and losing weight. i miss my home. i'm nowhere. i'm no one.
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I love how the more I say I don't care about my birthday, how I want nothing to do with it, and how scared I am, the more people fucking pressure me about it and tell me how old I'm getting and blah blah blah.
LEAVE ME THE FUCK ALONE.
I'm going to cry and watch Across the Universe.
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staying up until five. forcing my fingers to type, to try and coax some sort of inspiration from my dead mind. you're so far. why am i here? no more love. i'd like to be alone. can't i breathe for a while? take a sleeping pill, or maybe ten. this should keep me asleep through the night. wake up with a banging headache and attempt to write again. nothing. nothing. nothing. my fingertips are dry and my thoughts wired. the piano sits dusty. what happens when i'm not a child anymore? when was the last time i was a child? i'm not ready, please don't do this. i'd like to slow the next few days down because this sixteenth year has gone by too fast and i'm not ready to move on. i haven't looked in my notebook in days and i should probably write her more letters. but i can't write to myself let alone anyone else. there's nothing there and my soul is empty. i was on my way. i was searching for that experience. i can't be sober and real at the same time. i need to discover the blankness behind my eyelids.
oh god, death is a sweet release. but i keep going on like nothing matters and everyday ticks by and i'm being strangled by the world. and if i was experienced, i'd see the air particles swirling around me and i could breathe them in. only i'm a child in a big world with empty eyes. i'm drowsy from the lies i've told myself. i lay in bed and allow the meaningless thoughts to suffocate me. i don't believe in anything right now. i don't believe in you. i don't believe in me. i am a figment. i am a vanishing act. i am counting the numbers on my fingers and my veins are throbbing and purple. ghostly skin and dry lips.
breathe in::::::::::breathe in:::::::::::breathe in.
everything is toxic.
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i have this strong desire to die.
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