Always

It's always at the times you need people around the most that you shut most of them out
Or is that just me?
Probably just me.
Is it their worth, or is it your own worth that you are measuring in order to shut people out?
(have you ever noticed that when a situation becomes uncomfortable for any person, you stop using "I" and start using "you", as if it were a hypothetical situation? Human instinct I guess)

Anyways.
The general respect I have been getting from people as of late is lacking.
Do you really think that just because you don't say it in my presence, means that I don't hear it?
Unfortunately, I hear everything.
Lexie, Lexie, Lexie.
She acted just like that.
Held no moral weight for her words, her actions, and how they affected other people.
All that really mattered was her enjoyment in the moment,
and never how that enjoyment affected her friends, her family, her outward image;
I've never understood how a person could just not care about any of that.
Trust, trust, trust.
How are you supposed to trust anyone, when everyone is genuinely interested in their own well being and nothing else?
You can't blame them,
but you don't like it either.
So what is one supposed to do when there are words both said and unsaid,
that points favoritism in a direction
(that is neither fair, nor unfair)
but still gives off general ideas of whom should be used for what.
Both images of a person, used for sexual purposes
(what else are people for of course?)
But one more than the other.
One image, genuinely used for conversation, for the release of emotions, for feelings and of course the occasional release of invading sexual frustrations,
can arguably become no longer an image, but a tangible, living breathing thing.
The other image though, hard to get close to, always seeming like the bad guy,
is an image used for the sake of releasing sexual fantasies and nothing more.
These two images are one and the same,
so how is it that one can be treated so differently?
The chicken or the egg.
The chicken or the egg.
Treated like nothing but a sexual object, so a close off from the world results?
Or just so closed off from the world that no one can view this "thing"
as more than just an image?
Which came first. Which came first. Which came first.
Just an image.
Just an image.
Just an image.

I just can't think anymore.
The poetry I used to love to write stopped flowing.
One of my few outlets has abandoned me.
I had my Rhyme and my Reason,
But now I have neither....
I have my old hospital bracelet in my hand.
It's practically an antique at this point.
Only the last few letters of my name haven't faded,
Along with the dreadful name of my poison.

Box cutters, box cutters box cutters.

Constantly in my possession.
I would think it ironic if I were to die by the blade my work provided me.
Such a sign of hope, an era of living out of financial hardship while attending school.
But still....such a temptation.
In the end it is kind of funny though.
Everything is just a laughing matter in the end....

Words, words, words, words.
Nothing hurts more than those dreadful things right now.
Runner up is being physically touched.
Another ironic thing.
All I ever wanted was to be held when I was younger,
Now all I want is to be left out of physical contact with anyone.
It opens the flood gates.
It hurts. All it does it hurt.
Al they ever do is hurt.

Be myself?
I've trained myself for a long time to do the opposite.
I would carry a knife on me at all times.
I would kick and spit on my boyfriends.
I broke an ex's nose once...
There was no allowance for having friends that were girls.
Kick and scream, threaten, kick and scream,
Until all their friends were gone.
Physical fights were a daily thing,
The funny thing is....
I only feel that type of rage with the guys I fall in love with.
Damn my head.
Good for nothing, good for nothing, good for nothing.
I don't think anyone wants a girlfriend who will slap or punch them for no reason.
It's just impulsive, and although I've trained myself, not to do it,
The feelings remain the same.

It's disgusting how honest I am being.
It's disgusting how I want them to hit me so I can hit them back...

I'm sitting here. Thinking. Thinking of what is to happen to me.
Even in my busiest days, when I have no thoughts left to occupy myself with, there you are; just a ghost in my life.
Awake. Wide awake.
Once again, I hate being touched. It hurts, unbearably. It's backstabbing affection.
A drink? Maybe two? No...I can't even touch the poison, I can't even find the strength to put it to my lips.
I remember. I remember. I remember.
I can't even imagine. No. I won't imagine, it is too heartbreaking.
You are wandering the streets, alone, with no home, a dying body, and no friendly face.
Can I do anything about it, no, because I don't know where you are.
The suffering I saw you endure, I cannot even imagine how much it has escalated in your poor health.
I watched you, cough up the rotting blood from your lungs.
I watched you, as you spat teeth out as they were rotting, infecting your face, making it swollen and horrible.
I watched you, pull out small specks of cancer and cry and scream as you carved them out of your arms.
I watched you, as you would pass out from the relentless dry heaves that would leave you with your rotting face over the toilet, screaming in agony.
Sometimes you would pass out in the shower, sometimes for so long when I was young, that I had no choice but to urinate on myself.
You compared me to the likeness of a cat, and told me that I had to use the litter box from now on.
You told me that the only sound I was allowed to make was a "meow"
You passed out again, but this time locked us in. Forcing us to drink from a toilet. Before the sun came up. And long after the sun went down.
You sat me on a couch, wouldn't let me leave, your horrible swollen face just a couple of inches left from mine, and a tight grip on both my arms, stench of rotting flesh and alcohol. I wasn't allowed to sell chocolate for my school drill team you said, it was belittling to you for some reason I could not see. I threw the chocolate away and got suspended from school for not being able to pay for it..
You threw my things away, you sold my things, you took all the money from my college funds.
You told me that I was good for nothing, after I had spent an hour putting up Halloween decorations to impress you, to gain your approval, to have a sense of accomplishment.
You then tore them down.
Why then am I still so overwhelmed with the fear of you dying any day now....I can feel it in my everything; my heart, my soul, my bones. Just about everything aches, just about everything wants to escape me, and just about everything is restless and delusional.
Approval. Approval. Approval.
Will anyone really know how bad it got?.....Can I ever really express my fear of losing that chance of approval forever?
I don't even know if you are alive.
I'm stuck between life and death, because I don't know.
I can't decide anything. I can't be sure of anything.
The biggest uncertainty in my life is looming over my head.
Will I only be able to continue when I know for sure?
When I have your death certificate in my hands?
When that chance of approval is over, when I no longer have to be in limbo?

I just don't know....