Quite Frankly

If I didn't live for love, I'd have killed myself by now. Don't think I'm not tempted. Behind every smile, under the sparkle of my eyes, entwining each thread of hair is the intense self hatred and shame, the despise reflecting itself back onto me, the burning humiliation I (and countless others- don't get me wrong) have to live with.
Do not for one minute think I am not completely sick of life. Do not think I am not depressed. Do not think that I do not see the sunshine through bars. Life is agony.

I live it.

I am thinking. I am thinking about 4 AM on the bridges of central London. It is watching the sun rise and heat up the tar, it is feeling the traffic rumble the place you are sitting, it is the earthy smell of Thames. It is being alone to enjoy the solitary morning-mourning.

I am also thinking about blood. Cutting. Those little red lines speeding across. And the big ones. I am thinking about how I have no reason to feel to sad and angry, oh angsty teen. And I am thinking about how relieving it would be to cut into those soft pillowy thighs, embroidered with stretch marks and injury free. Almost a clean canvas to devastate.

And I am thinking about how pornography degrades me. When I watch it, I feel alone. When Mike watches it, I feel inadequate.

Thinking.. I wish nobody in my life took drugs. I wish we were all clean and pure, all happy. All together.

I am thinking so deeply into my own life I might drown.

I am thinking - Gods, I wish I could voice how I feel. I wish I was not so weak I had to write everything down because the words evaporate on my lips and turn into hot dust that chokes. And I wish I did not drink. How I wish.

And I am thinking - Shit, I've been hearing voices for nearly seven months ongoing. That's longer than the last time.

Mostly I am thinking - Fuck. Michael will read this rather soon, and then I will have to try and explain why I feel so fucked up. And I don't have a reason, nor an excuse.

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Michael, don't think this is anything you have caused. If I know men like I know women (deeper on the inside *winkwink*) they freakin beat themselves up over ev-e-ry stupid thing. It's not you. Just leave it alone if you think it is. Right now. Drop it. Drop it. Good boy.