Not written by me/Written by stupid me

And I don't even know if I should be posting it..
but the writer will remain anonymous.

It's so beautiful.. I wanted to share it here.

Two figures are sitting among the rocks. The moon glistens off the surface of the ocean, looking like drowning bright white fireflies. In the distance fog rolls in, starting to blanket the spot they seem to be looking upon. But they're looking at the stars. "Which one is your favorite?" says the boy. The girl, stunningly beautiful with a smile most men would do anything to have pointed at them, gazes up and thinks. "I like the big one, off to the side of that cluster of the other ones. Its the best because it can get by on its own." The boy slowly got up, and grasped the star in his hand. Twisting, he popped it out of the sky and brought it to earth. He then pulled a string out of his pocket, threading it through the souvenir he'd taken from the night. Reaching over to the girl he tied the iridescent orb around her neck. "Here. So even when you're lost or in a dark place you can find your way back to me."

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These words are my own. And they suck.

I feel in the absence of magic. And I don't like it.
What is with me and these awful, self-absorbed blog posts? I need to stop. I need to get a grip on everything. Yet my mind keeps churning out senseless emotion and thoughts that I want to stab. I'm turning into someone I don't want to admit I am.
The whole thing is ludicrous. It's petty and stupid, really.
But here I am... typing away nothing. That's right, nothing. Everything I'm saying has no meaning attached. I'm too busy trying to be vague enough to not clue anyone in on what is actually haunting me... and yet still trying to get a clear emotion across. It's not easy. It's not going well.
>.< Argh. That's frustration.

And you know what I want right now? I want a guitar. I want a song. I want to experience something beyond what my mind can create.
I want darkness, I want blood.
I want love, I want beauty.
I want selfishness, I want betrayal.
I want passion, I want depth.
I want poison, I want death.
I want every itch to be scratched.

And now I look down and think... I will never have these things. I will never let myself live.