Hatred is the coward's revenge for being intimidated.
George Bernard Shaw
Mark Overby
Love is much like a wild rose, beautiful and calm, but willing to draw blood in its defense.
You hate someone whom you really wish to love, but whom you cannot love. Perhaps he himself prevents you. That is a disguised form of love.
Whatever man. I hope something really terrible happens to me. I wish I could hear myself think. And that I understood what I want. All I keep thinking about is maybe having a heart attack. I know it's messed up, and sadistic. But I swear, I want something horrible to happen to me more than anything.
I want to get hit by a car.
Or get struck by lightning. Or collapse due to dehydration.
I want something
I want anything
that'll let me run away.
I've said it before, and I'll say it again and again and again; I'm a fucking runner. When I feel, it goes too deep. And I can't handle it. Or comprehend it. And it stews in my brain, rotting, and burning, and turning everything in to mush, until I bend over, and my entire mind comes seeping from my nose and eyes. I keep trying to figure out why other people can handle their thoughts and I can't handle mine. And the only thing I can really think of is just that I'm too goddam weak minded or something to be able to exist peacefully, and to try to make sense of both my conscious and my unconscious thoughts. Or maybe, like, I'm missing something. Maybe I'm missing some key ingredient that acts as an autopilot to shut the gears in my head down before it goes in to overdrive, and starts driving me crazy, because suddenly, nothing makes sense. That's why, lately, I've been feeling like all I really want to hope for, is something traumatic. So I could at least have something ligitimit to focus on. So I wouldn't be so at a loss as to what it is that's fucking with me. And that way, I could just lay in a hospital bed, for days at a time, in the physical pain I deserve away from everybody who makes my head hurt. I don't know why I feel like I deserve physical pain. But I feel like punishing myself for something. Maybe for not being smart enough to understand. Maybe for being a human being in the first place. Who really knows? Clearly not I.
just a note:
i hate compliments. i hate them so much.
i don't know why. they should make me feel happy.
but they always just end up making me feel guilty. or sad. or awkward. or annoying. or ungreatful.
i'm so tired right now. i'm tired of being in school and being tired. im tired of going to the guidence councelor and complaining about the same shit. i'm tired of repeating myself, and nothing ever changing. i'm tired of being tired. i'm tired of doing nothing. i'm tired of letting things be. i'm tired of being. i'm tired of being tired of being.
FUCK THERE'S NOTHING I CAN DO. Nothing's going to change.
Two more years Miranda. Two more years Miranda. Two more years Miranda. Two more years.
Ahaha, baby doll
you lucky porclean darling in the ground
i'd trade you places in aheart beat, cause you'd have done better
and that's all that you wanted
and you wouldn't have caused all the trees so muchfood.
No, you'd have treasured that murmur
although you mayn't have scurried
over the dunes of the deserts,
you'd at least see the sun
and at least
those trees
would be thankful
not humming
in horror
at the golden gate bridge
imposing
pounding in helplessness
upon it's black stretch
why isn't it breathing
underneath the gray blanket
it's decaying from the inside to the out in the flesh
gills that are filled with dreams of solid gold
suffocating for dreams that will only be reached
at the end of the world.
George Bernard Shaw
Mark Overby
Love is much like a wild rose, beautiful and calm, but willing to draw blood in its defense.
You hate someone whom you really wish to love, but whom you cannot love. Perhaps he himself prevents you. That is a disguised form of love.
Whatever man. I hope something really terrible happens to me. I wish I could hear myself think. And that I understood what I want. All I keep thinking about is maybe having a heart attack. I know it's messed up, and sadistic. But I swear, I want something horrible to happen to me more than anything.
I want to get hit by a car.
Or get struck by lightning. Or collapse due to dehydration.
I want something
I want anything
that'll let me run away.
I've said it before, and I'll say it again and again and again; I'm a fucking runner. When I feel, it goes too deep. And I can't handle it. Or comprehend it. And it stews in my brain, rotting, and burning, and turning everything in to mush, until I bend over, and my entire mind comes seeping from my nose and eyes. I keep trying to figure out why other people can handle their thoughts and I can't handle mine. And the only thing I can really think of is just that I'm too goddam weak minded or something to be able to exist peacefully, and to try to make sense of both my conscious and my unconscious thoughts. Or maybe, like, I'm missing something. Maybe I'm missing some key ingredient that acts as an autopilot to shut the gears in my head down before it goes in to overdrive, and starts driving me crazy, because suddenly, nothing makes sense. That's why, lately, I've been feeling like all I really want to hope for, is something traumatic. So I could at least have something ligitimit to focus on. So I wouldn't be so at a loss as to what it is that's fucking with me. And that way, I could just lay in a hospital bed, for days at a time, in the physical pain I deserve away from everybody who makes my head hurt. I don't know why I feel like I deserve physical pain. But I feel like punishing myself for something. Maybe for not being smart enough to understand. Maybe for being a human being in the first place. Who really knows? Clearly not I.
just a note:
i hate compliments. i hate them so much.
i don't know why. they should make me feel happy.
but they always just end up making me feel guilty. or sad. or awkward. or annoying. or ungreatful.
i'm so tired right now. i'm tired of being in school and being tired. im tired of going to the guidence councelor and complaining about the same shit. i'm tired of repeating myself, and nothing ever changing. i'm tired of being tired. i'm tired of doing nothing. i'm tired of letting things be. i'm tired of being. i'm tired of being tired of being.
FUCK THERE'S NOTHING I CAN DO. Nothing's going to change.
Two more years Miranda. Two more years Miranda. Two more years Miranda. Two more years.
Ahaha, baby doll
you lucky porclean darling in the ground
i'd trade you places in aheart beat, cause you'd have done better
and that's all that you wanted
and you wouldn't have caused all the trees so muchfood.
No, you'd have treasured that murmur
although you mayn't have scurried
over the dunes of the deserts,
you'd at least see the sun
and at least
those trees
would be thankful
not humming
in horror
at the golden gate bridge
imposing
pounding in helplessness
upon it's black stretch
why isn't it breathing
underneath the gray blanket
it's decaying from the inside to the out in the flesh
gills that are filled with dreams of solid gold
suffocating for dreams that will only be reached
at the end of the world.
1 comments:
your blog is the most unique, most beautiful thing i have ever laid my eyes on. you're so fucking creative. but dude, i've had this problem before, where you can't think for yourself and you can't think out loud or silent and not even that but you don't even know WHAT to think anymore. you'll get through it dude, i promise.
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