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Fish in a Bowl  I wonder if I could hang myself with the red sash-wrap-thing from my prom dress. Don't worry (not that you were anyways), I'm not going to. I'm just morbidly curious, and since no one will talk to me, I don't really have anything to do but think. And the imagery appeals to me. It's bright, almost blood, red. I fucking hate freshmen, in case anyone was wondering. I'll take the pain over the emptiness almost any day. But what do I do when the pain becomes just more emptiness? I can't wait to leave here. Get away from all of you, all of them. I want to be anywhere but here. I wish none of this, and I really mean none of this, had ever happened. I am so fucking unbelievably angry right now. You know what? Fuck you. All of you. But it's probably going to kill me. Current mood:  miserable.
Well damn. Is that a breaking point I see approaching with all the unforgiving speed of a semi-forgotten deadline? Who knew! Hahahaha. Isn't that just grand? Current mood:  hurt.
I'm not wearing any rings. I'm grateful, in a sick, twisted sort of way. At least this way I won't ever have to make that decision, which is good, since I know what my answer would be. And I know where that goes. Current mood:  empty.
I need to get the fuck out of here while I still have skin on my arms. I told you so, I told you so, I told you so. Understand that when I say that, I'm not blaming you. I'm just trying to turn the hurt into bitterness, because it's easier to live with. I told you so. And yet, silly me, for a minute there, I almost believed you. I should know better. |
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