Love With Revenge.

I cocked my gun
and blew out her brains
Kissed scarlet
and fucked the remains
Light hit the sky
and reflected in rain
A glint in her eye
made me afraid

She was alive
with barely a pulse
I shot at the heart
with love always false
I drank her in
with sudden impulse
Her blood like flames
I choked while she convulsed

There was a scream
and I became bewitched
Amused by her livelihood
and I sighed at her twitch
With every shot I fired
and every change in pitch
Her scream continued
to ring while her soul enriched

Her hand felt cold
as it pricked at my skin
And her fingers tightened
as my life line grew thin
Her irises were dark
as her pupils sparked within
I swear I heard someone laugh
at her revenge against my sin

The End

I finished the book.

And I finished a part of myself.

It's the end of me. Well, in a way. I'm offing myself... the part of myself that wanted to off myself. That's crazy, huh?

But why would I want to end this? All you have to do is remember that in every situation, though it may not seem like it, you have a blank canvas to work with. I can paint the picture how I see it, how I want it to be. I have so much.

I'm just excited I finally realize it.

Waking Up

I'm awake with one of my favorite pastimes: Opening a book of fresh pages late at night (I began around 2 am) and becoming too enthralled by the story to cease and rest.

I decided a short break was needed when emotion became too much for me. I've realized now I don't let myself access my emotions like I used to just a few months ago. I don't cry easily. The other night I gave in and sobbed briefly, but I didn't dare continue. I wasn't alone, and I couldn't let someone see that part of me. That weakness. I didn't dare let it become real.

I have a strong headache. Probably from the lack of sleep. However, my head is clear. I've been reading about these people who all tried to die, but with this second chance none of them seem compelled to do it again. But at this point in the story, still all of them are stuck. There are slow progressions, but not enough to really live. I strongly relate to one of the characters, the way she coaxes through her manic depressive states and finds relief in sharp objects. I'm not manic depressive by any means, but her talk of dwelling in certain mindsets sounds familiar. The cutting, I of course relate to. Funny how stupid it sounds from another perspective. I haven't done anything like that in a long time. When I act, I sometimes miss it. Probably because it's one of the more powerful and emotionally evoking things I have done and felt. Yet I'm finding that this positive side of me... this open, carefree, loving side of me, is more powerful than I ever was in my darkness.

You see, I made myself damaged. I drowned in it. I loved the attention, yearned to do more self hatred and self injury when I didn't get enough of it. But now, I get attention for being me, rather than for hating me. It's a lovely change. In this state of mind, I find endless possibilities. The sad thing is... love is the emotion that brings me back there. This night, not too long ago, I was in the midst of it once again. It's a scary thing. And although I am not in love with the one who surrounded me with it again, suffocated me with it again... I still went back to the place. That place where my best isn't good enough. That place where every phrase dies with the moment's end. That place where it's hard to believe.

And just now, something within me clicked. I now understand the responses I get when I say I love you and let my feelings expel into endless creations of affection. I understand how hard it is to accept someone's feelings when you've been burned in the past. But I look at those who've hurt me. Yes, they broke me. No.. they didn't. I let myself believe that and then it felt true. I created that reality. They hurt me, but only I have the power to break myself. They just left memories. Memories that I could do anything with. Memories I chose to let run and ruin me. But there's always a chance to turn everything around. Exploring this feeling of mine, this place I go to when someone actually wants to be with me, I'm discovering that it's almost disappeared. I can't wait for the day it's gone. And I have hope it will be.

I feel that my life is full of possibilities, and the only thing that has ever been in my way is myself.

I tried to kill myself at age 16. I'm like the people in the book I'm reading, only I didn't get the luxury of going to rehab. Yes... I'm calling it a luxury. And anyone reading this blog post cannot begrudge me for that statement. Instead, I've been living my life as it was. I lived stagnant for so long, but now I let the waves develop and crash. I like this person, the one who has finally made something of the second chance she's been given.

And here I am, smiling because I just now realized: I have always been this person.

Confused? Why yes, yes I am.

This night. It was wonderful. I laughed, I cried, I lived. It was so much fun, maybe the most fun I've had in forever. It was beautiful. The way the moonlight shone provided just a hint of fairytale and I felt wave after wave of happiness rush through me.

It was love. It was real. It was everything I needed to feel right now.

Why wouldn't it work?

Does he really want me to answer this? Yeah... By his stare with a hint of hope that I won't have a good response, I can tell this is not just a rhetorical question. Well, how do I begin?

I know my answer well, but it's a little ridiculous. Does it matter? Unfortunately, it does.

Life is complicated.

I'd like to stay single for a while.

Honesty is the best policy, right?

I'm in trouble.

I haven't written in a while

I've been rather busy. I've been reflecting on myself a lot.

I've gotten ballsy. I've gotten more confident. In acting class I feel the most comfortable. It seems like something I could maybe even pursue. I don't know, that's another unrealistic dream to chase after... I'll keep adding to the list. But outside of that, I've gotten better at being social. No, I don't have more friends. But I certainly have more ways to entertain myself.

I'm still in love. I still wish I could do something about it.

I think that I'm the only thing holding me back from moving to California. I don't know what exactly it is, but there's something in the way. I need to figure it out. Soon.

I don't have anything creative to post. I don't know why I haven't been able to write. I've been more inspired to sing and act than to put pen to paper/fingers to keyboard.

...I'm not exactly sure what's gotten into me.