”Jag vaknade upp med den där obehagliga känslan, jag är mitt mellan minor som sprängs i ett gränsland. Vet inte vad som kommer först – är det lust jag känner, eller är det törst? Försöker lyssna på mina inre röster men de stryps av kvävningsattacker eller är det kväljningar jag känner? Det är som att något står i lågor men inte ens vatten verkar släcka dessa bränder. Min själ är ett skäl till att jag borde lugna ner mig, komma ner på jorden, sluta spela hunger games ni vet dom där spelen – om spelet – på spel – ingen hade rätt men alla hade fel. Men det var ju bara en del, av delen, jag skulle berätta, innan någon avbröt mig igen för att säga det rätta. Ja, något om sina jävla saker och grejer, fuckboys hade aldrig funnits om det inte vore för tjejer, som skriker – tills dom gråter – och sedan ändå aldrig förlåter, den där otroheten – man visste – skulle hända, om man lämnade sin pojkvän ensam hemma.” 💘 //C.
För ett tag sedan började jag skriva på texten ni kan läsa nedan. Eller ah, jag har väl egentligen påbörjat att skriva på den i flera omgångar, och nu tänkte jag att den kanske äntligen är redo att publiceras. Den är nog snäppet för lång för sitt eget bästa, men jag tänker behålla den så. För att jag gillar den så, helt enkelt. Värt att tillägga är att jag skrivit den här texten med fyra personer som inspirationskällor, den är alltså inte skriven till EN person utan flera. (Worth to add: I’ve written this text with four (4) different persons as my inspiration.)
Hello, it’s me again, but I’m still, gonna leave you, by yourself, all alone, in my mind – your long gone. But still, now – here I are, again, just for now, then never, again. Oh, be so sure, that i’m like a star …and you are too. So why don’t you just twinkle, twinkle, little star? Why don’t you just twinkle, twinkle?
Well.. here’s my bars:
So, when I woke up around 1 am to realize that a panic attack didn’t kill me this time either, I was suppose to be lucky I survived it, but instead all I could think of were that all I wanted was to try for you to just GET fact, about my brain, my state of mind, which you obviosuly can’t relate too. And I guess that’s just fine…
So… It might just be about that eaten cake you know, and that’s the reason I want you. But I never ment to.
DON’T YOU FUCKING JUDGE.
DON’T YOU FUCKING JUDGE ME.
ONLY GOD CAN JUDGE ME.
Also, YOU mentioned some real heavy medications that me, myself, don’t wouldn’t really do because the simple fact of that I’m trying to survive this life, you know? But I thought you might had soul. A soul that had to die. I guess I wanted to save you, or just follow when fly. But now just go unfriend yourself from my list, I don’t remember your name.
I thought a person who was capable of relating to another persons anxiety never would call that person ”mentally ill” – because of society – and ofcourse not even think about trying to push that person to some kind of limit on a suicidal limiter ”thingy”… if there even was one, what so ever. Because everyone knows that anxiety are enough to try to handle, for anyone, as well for those who’s still suffering and that without suicides on their mind all the fucking time.
How do I even know that(?) you might now ask yourself.
And so, I won’t answer you!!!!!!!!!!
Because pain is only temporary, and pride is forever.
I rather be torned apart, than pulled together.
But why don’t you just press the button?
Show me you’re thug enough. Show me,
so I can chew you. Rawff!!!!
But maybe you also go around and tell a cancer sick person that he or she OMG he or she GOT SOME FUCKING CANCER(!!!) too? In that case – that’s just wicked. Like it’s a choice of life to feel getting sicker, like someone just turned off the flicker – of who you used to be, who you used be… Just wake up, go to hell, fight the war, come home, sleep away the pain caused of the fact of that you will wake up the next day, just as well, in this hell, anyway, just as fact, so WHY DON’T JUST DIE A LITTLE LESS FOR EVERYONE BEFORE THEY FUCKING LEAVE YOU IN ALL YOUR MESS… for heaven.
They went for heaven, I said.
And that’s the reason to die… But no worries, becuase a person like me – you know – we rather fight war than fly. Yeah, I know that that’s high thinking of my of myself, like i’m totally alive. ”Let’s make her wanna die!” So why don’t you push it, push it, push it – if you can hold? It’s hard to belive in something I don’t know really excist, but please: I do try to belive in it, that, me, myself, I and God, forever will be, anyway, because I’m proud enough to do that. I never asked for you to look back at me, I just asked for you for see me right there.
But yeah – i’m so sorry for all these books I’ve written lately, wasteing your name on all these papers that I’ve thrown. It’s must have been so hard for you, really, I understand that to the fullest, cuz I know. But you also should revolved, because of how you react, but I guess you’re just being ignorant, and like air – you only excist by fact.
And why I’m sending you all these pictures I because of it being actually, or at least ”kind of”, hard for me trying to get my shattered self together like this, all naked dressed up in all these clothes, starring into the fucking wall, in fucking english.. and that’s all. Just get that’s hard. Just get it. And also I’m pretty sure by far – that the only way for us to solve this mess is by using our magic to make some stars, through body language, and not by talking. But then we would have to see eachother, which I can’t find as an option… On this very long lists of options I got here in front of me…
Let’s call a friend and ask? Friends always know what’s the best for you.. and not. They also seem to tell you to just fucking change, and chase, but for what(?) – for whatever! – just chase for somebody, something else – it’s just about to be just somebody, for the better, what else, whatever.. they’re now only a few left, their corpes smells. All these humans, with all these lounghs breathing. And with hearts beating. They’re now all stronger than when they’re were more of weaker. While seeking, for something, that’s soon to be broken – down – into pieces, of all these wishes – they call visions – with always trying to take a better decision, because of wisdom, without witches, it is vicious – and sure delicious, but it’s the bottom.. of the bottle.
So… The baddest started bitching, they became the saddest while should be stoners, not stoned, but when stones are thrown is’s because always running out of fire. Running out of fire. I talk about witches.
No, not me, but don’t you fucking try to touch me, i’m on a speed diet. Please talk while you’re being quite. You’re a liar. I said ”don’t touch me”, I’m wire. When you threw my heart against the ground, I became fire. I’m a pokémon. Wanna hire?
Everyone now please press the share button, while i’m on the bottom – seeking for attention – like that’s what was my main intention, during this journey, born in a century – filled with all these empty bottles. I think i’m about to vomit. But that’s too explicit.
Remember: Don’t eat, it’s meat, it’s gonna kill you. Achtung! Repeat is on repost so please don’t press the button, don’t press button.
But no maestro, I’m no attention seeker as you were saying. It’s not preaching – it’s praying. But I refuse to look like a victim, so i’m now your stranger, a ninja or an angel, or a vampire, i’m just sour, like raw, raw raw!.. Omg, I’m so funny, i’m not?.. But OK – I was just saying: That If you knew me, ”dude”, you would also know that I avoid all types of eyecontact with people and cameras – with my goggles on – and that my friends always excuse themselves when they can’t behave so spontaniously hug or kiss me me or something. I’m rude. Yeah, like that. It’s hot. No. It’s not that charming of me to be an avoider, I know that, but it’s just how I react, and I never went for ”charming”, did I? No. I’m more like.. I dunno… Marilyn Manson? Charlie Sheen? The anonomous? Alcoholics? Same shit, different names. Same shit, different fames. Just like; ”Here. Look at me. This is me. Here I am. Super fly, super free, let’s share Wi-Fi, eat cake and then do some bleeding. Then die.“
And can everyone please now closen their eyes and listen while me being me while I talk? Don’t run, you look better when you walk. Also no now be scared of me, you’re like ”DUDE!!! WHAT THE FUCK!!! ARE SHE EVEN SAYING?” …while I’m actually screaming.
I’m like what the fuck is this that smells? Is it hell? It’s freezing! But it’s all well. You’re so cosy, I wanna kill you. It would be a thrill to. Whatever she will do. It will kill you. But that’s not funny for anyone with a brain to read. But I assume you don’t understand a shit of this, i’m just writing, like on paper, just to burn it, you deserve it – like the little mean fuck you are.
But I’m still wishing for all these different dreams, to come true, with that – I mean pass – to the point, that there’s no weed in the joint, it’s rats. Assume your word game is on point, wanna battle? I would enjoy it, listening to all the bullshit you’re repeating. All these different modes, switch is on, ”oh! Not that dude” – i’m sweeping. You’re like covered in all these shiny layers, with nothing but talk, talk, talk and walk, walk, walk, because you’re twinkle little star. So go ahead and fucking twinkle, I thought you were a star. You said you would be a twinkle little star… but you’re fucking prision, why do I miss you? I wanna kiss you.
AND YEAH so it’s been a problem, during the years, all these riskes I’ve been taking, while trying to take my life, several times. I’m barely awaken, and all of this just because I didn’t feel that it would be okay for me to be ”just fine”. But I’m a surviver, i’m gonna make it, i’m a survior – so just stop the stabbing. It’s annoying as fuck, you’re just as nice as a cat. Mjau!