A Pathetic You

You can't like what you never wanted. You can't desire something forced upon you. Yon can't be in love with a lie. There is no truth when it has to be made, forced, for the convenience of another, to take away from some one weaker to make yourself feel stronger. But really, when you think about it, who really is the weak one? Having to prey on the sad and hurt to feel strong. Forcing others to except you so that you can feel needed, wanted...sigh, how pathetic. I still hate myself, hate the feelings of being a victim, but at least I didn't corrupt happiness. No matter what any one tries to tell me, I only loved, even when there was pain, even it was taken, even when I wanted to die...I loved. What can the wicked say? It was all about them. So sad. What a pathetic and hopeless existence. To be so useless. To be so selfish. The world is full of people how in hell could it ever just be about you...

Lights Going Out

I feel, well I suppose that's the reason why I hurt so much is because I can feel. Existing in the world of feeling and emotions cause such, horrid notion for the importance of life. I have so much trouble believing the few people who remain when they tell things are going to get better. How? One road after the other I have taken has lead me to the worst parts of hell. I am just so tired of it. Wouldn't you? I mean you love without conditions. You give ever ounce of your being to those around, those that you live and die for. You express your needs, your ideals of love, life, and family. And the all you get, all you have left...is really nothing. Like bandits in the night, those people you gave up your dreams to help them reach theirs, take every drop of life from you. It sucks. I know I say I have nothing. But I suppose what I mean is that what I have is useless. Stolen dreams. Broken spirit. Shattered heart. Torn soul. Lacking desires. Faithless hope. Withering body. Lifeless life. What good can I do with any of those things...trash, garbage, rubbish. Is that all I am worth? I tried to be beautiful on the inside, even though I knew how imperfect I am. I know how many times I have failed. Those times and places I have hurt people. I hated being in those moments. I died a little inside every time I was aware of the pain caused by my stupid self. Sigh. But what does it matter, for me to confess to you? What will you do with it? Well I do hope for as long as I write, that my words can be useful to you. Those beautiful faces I will never receive the pleasure of experiencing. Even though I do not value my pitiful life. I do yours. Even if I don't know you. Why, because I know how precious each life that has touched mine. Even those that have torn me to piece and left me in the mud. If you are breathing, dear one, you are...precious. Luv Much

Life Is Worthless

Well in definition only mine. Its hard to live in an existence where you believe life is precious but you hate the fact that you are breathing. How can someone like me exist? Why do I? Am I only to exist in pain, in suffering? I am just fucking lame. I deserve the worst depth of hell, burning in sweet desires of turmoil. Yea, I don't get it. Why I hate life, living so very much. Way to often I make the one I love the most hurt, because I hurt myself....because I have had so much pain I feel as if I cannot breath without it. Yes, I really am pathetic.