"Two Words"

Blood bath. Suicide.
Reading the words in lines,
The ones written in red.
Scars that told your story.

Inch by inch,
Your skin was demolished.
All you wanted was to
Reflect what you saw....
On the inside.

No one ever cared,
Or so it seemed to you.
You were dying.
The faces around you blurred.
And you were lost...

Lost in a darkness so deep
That hope could not dispel
It's presence in your heart.
Not the poison in your veins.

Alone. Tired. Broken.
Pieces scattered around the memory
Of you.
Making up the lines of your face
The brutality of your addiction
The pain in your eyes
And the slivers of your dreams.

Tough skin, rough heart.
It was how you projected.
An outer-shell of falsehoods
Created to protect you.

Those walls of protection
Must have changed.
Into a prison and a torture chamber.
No screaming could be heard.
No tears were ever seen
But in your eyes....

Trust me, if you were here
I'd tell you how I know.
Know the pain.
Know the loneliness.
Know the shame, guilt, and....
Hopelessness.

I know the fear.
I know the hate of self.
The anger, fatigue, and...
Hiding.
Always faking.

I know the feeling
Of trying to stay two steps ahead
And falling four steps behind.
Of climbing to the top of the mountain
To fall off of the cliff.
Again and again and again....

"Blood bath," you said.
Just two words,
But they mean all the difference to me.

To someone you saved once.
Someone like me.

You were someone like me....

How?

There's only one thing that I want to do right now. Well two now. Two things calling to me and drawing me in. Run away. Cut. Run away. Cut. Get Away. Cut. Be alone. Cut. Stop hurting them. Cut. Run away. Cut. Run away forever.
            Run away from my mind. From the thoughts I do not want to deal with right now. Run away from the choices I do not want to make right now. Run away from the people around me. That way they won't have to deal with me, and I won't have to deal with them. How can I love something and want to leave it? To prevent destruction, or to feel comfortable and safe in isolation? Run away from this place. From home and all it's memories. From this town and all the people who know my story, those who judge me on it. From all the institutions and places the constantly tell me how worthless I am. And, even though it greatly pains me, even from God it'd seem. I'm running from him....running towards something that I can't see....darkness? As if it could even hide me. But it seems as though I'm still trying....and paying the price of such an attempt. It is possible to die while still physically alive. Trust me, I've seen it. I've felt it. It's possible to bring back such a dead soul, but something is always missing....
           Cut. Cut. Up and down. Clean skin or already marred. I wouldn't see the difference once I gave myself over to that beast hiding in my mind. Once I morphed into the monster in me, the part of me, that can run a blade against it's own skin....and not give a damn about what could happen. That's the truth...if I gave in again, I would no longer care what happened to me. The shame, the feeling of weakness, having to face such a failure, the guilt, the pain it'd cause those who care about me (maybe they wouldn't care?)....I wouldn't be able to process it or handle it. Chances are I'd wish for death instead of having to face it.....There are still days when I'm not sure why I'm still sticking around. Still breathing when everything seems so moot and pointless and bleak. When everything blurs together into one big canvas of grey, black, white, and occasional patches of red.
             Anger....pain....joy.....sadness. What's the point? Why feel? Why should I want to feel? So I can appreciate happiness and remember beautiful moments? Only to crash later when remembering better times....I don't want to feel. Plain and simple. And that's why I'll  never be able to get any better I guess. Because I can't see the point. More than that....I'm just afraid. Actually, I'm terrified. And I just don't know how to handle that.

I just don't know how to live......

Just Thoughts...

I need to write. To get everything out of my head. But I can't. I don't know why, but I can't. And that bothers me. Whenever things have gotten really bad, my only healthy releases have been writing and music. I try to write, but I just end up staring at the page until I just give up- frusterated and more upset than before. I try to play piano/guitar, but I quickly lose any desire to play. There is just...nothing there.
            I don't feel much anymore. I don't feel happiness, or sadness, or anger, or passion. I don't feel the difference between love and hate. I don't feel God anymore....that's killing me. I suppose I've just drifted too far from him this time and I've lost the blessing of hearing his voice. Or maybe my heart is just too hard, too bitter, too afraid to hear it....
            Point being, I feel nothing. Well, there are some things, but they blur together so often that it usually feels like nothing. I either feel loneliness, pain, or I'm stuck in some hellish sea of apathy. Not a care for if I'm hurt. I can't hurt myself anymore (prom, parents, friends, whatever...) but there are ways of getting around that. Wow....that sounds truly awful....
              Today is Easter. A day of new starts, new life. In a way it has been. I attended the Refuge again this morning for the first time in a long time. This time I convinced my parents to come. We've been looking for a new church and I'm really hoping they love the Refuge as much as I do.
              That has been the only new beginning. I probably shouldn't be writing this at night. My outlook is so much more negative the longer I'm alone at night. I suppose that is why I'm writing though. Sorry that this is all over the place....