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it had started to rain, but we didnt care every word that was spoken held onto the air |
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we wrote this in my spiral shelley is my <3 shelley is my less than three! j'adore shelley j'aime shelley je l'adore je l'aime news his for a lead monday night my bestfriend tried to kill herself you gonna read? huh? she didn't think she could handle the troubles of a teenage life. how often do i think the same?as much as you think at all. we are two minus one and three words can explain my feelings.she just has more corage than me. Although in this case i wish she wasn't so brave.her feelings lead her into a more troublesome life, one she can't handle. people hide their faces when she passes by...it hurts to know her. it hurts to know her pain, and to know yours pales in companison and that you can't do anything about it but be there if she calls. and she does call. she wants help but it almost feels helpless. it feels like her destiny is death before twenty.i don't want her to die before twenty. that won't give her any time to ive. what help is there to give? nothing seems sufficient, i am helpless. what is destiny if it takes her? i don't want destiny.destiny is for helpless people. this girl wants to be strong but when it comes down to it, and the tears pour, she can't help but let the blood flow and end the pain with her life.i know how it feels to let the beautiful crimson leak out. it feels like a volcano must feel to finally erupt. but i'm never gone as far as she has. i've burned myself until my wrist was splotched with blisters, and cut my wrist until it was cross hatched with thin red lines. the burns left scars. the cus were only deep enough to bleed, and healed in two days. her wrist was covered with deep slashes, little red maths gasping for death, when all i want was for her fingers to cling to life. her life is slipping between her fingers and her finger tips are the only thing holding on to it. its been four years since she found the art of suicide. she found the glory of blood and letting it out. since she started shes done it too many times, too many times to remember. too many times to stop.its a must. she can't stop. no one can stop this. its not a habit, its not an addiction is a habit and an addiction. we are fascinated with our own deaths. doctors just put you on medicine so your chemicals are balanced. sometimes that isn't enough. the constant yelling, beating, being broken down by hidden insults. its what hurts the most. now i think drugs and boys will help. it only gets worse. have you seen her mom?i have. and i've tried some of the drugs and shared some of the boys. nothing helps. but we still search for some kind of oblivion, some kind of release or freedom from all the pain. but there isn't a way tot get out of this cell. "whats that on your wrist?" "did you cut yourself? thats stupid!" they don't know they have no idea. "whats that on your wrist? how'd you get those blisters?" "i burned myself." "how? on accident?" i don't anwser, they don't know."your friends are good to you" sometimes that isn't enough. i'm not going to see those people again. but my faimly..they will always be around. always. i wish i could pick my owm family. maybe my parents could just be consultants, finance backers because as much as i hate it, i do need to be supported. i try to be so independent but i'm continuosly chained down. she tries to be independent because she has to. her parents won't let you lea on them. if you do you are promised to topple over. thats all. |