Introverted, Lonely, and Over-Sensitive

Of all the people in the world, the ones i understand the best now are those who have lost. "If i fall into the drink i will say your name before I sink". Thoe who have experiened loss, and longing, who want though they know it will murder them as surely as an ice pick through the heart. Those who turn the music up and lose ourselves in the sound. Let it wash over us, the notes vibrating in the air with the same frequency as our broken hearts, sometimes causing the fragmented pieces to come together, sometimes falling apart.

Those of us who have no voice anymore, who speak in endless cliches. "Immortalised with every angiuish we yield". Those of us who sit alone at home, cigerette in the mouth, finding solace in writing to themselves, talking to themselves, finding dialogue and discourse in books. So beaten and worn, looking for the same hope we've told ourselves time and time again to give up on.

I understand the bitter people, who hide themselves from every eye, who would never let themselves be happy. "Because when he hurts you, you feel alive". They hide themselves in their bitterness, their anger and anguish. Too tired to wrath against the world, to fight to want to achieve, yet they try because its all they know. Those people betrayed by their passions, the things they loved, that they held closest to their heart.

I understand the lonely people, who bury themselves in work, and refuse to know anyone. "I let the melody shine, let it cleanse my mind, I feel free now". Thoe who work a job they care little for, for money they dont need. They work to past the time, so during the day they dont have to think, and when they get home they're tired enough to sleep.

I understand the tired people, those who sleep does not come easily to, who toss and turn in bed, fitful from endless nightmares, broken by the endless carnage suicide and murders the nights hold. "Running over the same old ground, what have we found? The same old fears". Those who choose not to take their sleeping pills, they let the insanity in their mind take over their nights, and live their days weary from endless nights.

I understand the depressed people, the mad people, the cruel people, the people who say one thing and mean another, the people who don't have anything left to say anymore, the people who the world has lost all that sense of wonder and adventure it once held. I understand what it means to be dead, to fall between the cracks in the world. I understand that there is more than one way to be dead, i understand what it means to suffer before you die. My mind always plays tricks, and i think i understand one thing at one point and time, then the moment passes and i dont understand anymore. I know i'll understand when its important again.

What do you see when you look into my eyes? Do you see my hopes and dreams, my desires, my aspirations. Do you see my endless nights of torment, do you see the tears never far behind, do you see the vacant look that does not even acknowledge your presence? When you look into my eyes, do you see my soul? Can you draw me deeper into your gaze, can you reach for my heart and squeeze in your palm, feel the warm blood on your fingers, feel it beat, for you. Make me love you, tear my heart out, take a bite, feel the thick juices flow from your cheeks to your neck staining your shirt. Go ahead, i dont need a heart anymore. I am one of those people, already dead, living with the ghost of memory, doing things because i vaguely remember doing them. I cant remember how it was all supposed to feel, and i feel indifferent to how its all supposed to be.

Now i wait to enlist into my slavery, this time last year i was waiting to be with you."Is it wicked when you smile. Even though you feel like crying". I only understand the poeple who are dead inside. My memories are tainted with sadness because joy and heppiness doesn't mean as much to me as it did before. I've grown bitter, colder, harder, more uncaring, I've learnt to hate whole heartedly, i dont have as good a grasp on my temper as i used to, i'm unsure what happenens every day, and months go by like a blur. I've stopped investing enough care to create new memories, and i am content because so little affects me for more than a day now. This is normal, and i am normal, i'm no longer afraid to get hurt, because i dont think its possible for me to care beyond a certian amount. I am therefore content.

I hope you enjoyed my hundredth post. Stop telling me to learn to live because if you've lived enough you'd have atleast gone through this once. Stop telling me to be happy, because if you've ever been happy, you must know the sadness that follows. Stop telling me that i'm wrong, because if you were smart enough you wouldn't know what right is. Stop telling me that you know understand and care, because i honnestly dont expect very much, we live in a world where we never own anything, and the things you think belong to you actually own you, and i'm not just talking about inanimate things, physical things or idealogical things. If you do know understand or care, then you do, and you have to believe that you do, because i'll never know, and i'm too tired to find out. I refuse to fight for anything, because i dont see anything around worth fighting for. The world has gone wrong, mad and stupid, and everybodys too busy chasing imaginatons and intangiable things to realise that. Dont be stupid, dont choose life, dont choose anything, because choice is a trick question, whenever you choose, you choose between nothing and nothing. Whenever you cant choose in this consumeristic world they give you freebies to entice you into a choice.

And the nicest thing i can say to anyone is Good luck with your life, i hope you stay alive long enough before you die.