Why stay alive?

Today, I cried.

No novelty. I see you rolling your eyes from there, on your high horse.

But I cried for all the words I didn't say and probably never will. For all the truths I've swallowed...but why? Why do I swallow anything that's a truth? I keep telling myself I'm doing it to spare you any hurt. I'm doing it because you've hurt enough and you're a good person and don't deserve to have painful things said to you.

The reality is, I'm doing it to spare myself the agony of losing you from my life for good. Because once I really say all I want to (and let's be honest, all you deserve to hear), you will walk. Because "you don't need this." Because you are trying to do what's right and don't deserve to hear things that hurt, right? Right.

So I cried for the silence that weights a world inside my lungs. I cried because I'm not normal, and that's probably why I was never worth it. I cried because I hate myself so much for feeling, that I destroyed my arms in a rampage. I cried because I stopped just in time to not hurt myself bad enough to die. I cried that I have nothing left I can say, that will remotely cause you to take pity on me and at least hold me like a friend you don't want to lose.

I cried for an hour straight and all I can think of is hanging myself. Because I'm just exhausted. Totally exhausted. And I just don't care to try again. Never again.

I cried in spite of Paxil and Prozac. I cried in spite of art and music. I am crying still, because I don't even want to read this or be in my life...

So why would you?

I Am A Giant Idiot

It's too early to be crying already.

Especially when I'm the only one crying.

Why the hell do I still hurt? Or care? No. Not care. I hate that phrase. "I care about you." It's what people tell you when they don't want to say they love you in any way but they pity you. Why the hell do I still LOVE?

Screw this traffic. Screw these tears. Screw this hole in my lungs. Screw how hard I'm trying to not think of you and how easily you slap me in the face out of nowhere.

It's 7:42 am on a Monday. For those of you who wonder if Hell exists: I live it.