A Heart As Thick As Mine

This is it. When I cannot take it anymore. No, taking my whole life is not the answer. Although my life isn't anything special, it's not something to waste. It's something to be proud of and take charge of. I've lost many, either due to death or abandonment. This is it. I am not dwelling on the past anymore, I'm burying it deep in my mind. It's something that will never haunt me ever again. Some don't know what has happened, that's why they do not understand. Which is also, understandable. I do not blame anyone or anything, and that's how it's always had to go. I do not comprehend how someone could develop a full understanding of how this life works. Why it brings up down, and why it chooses to bring us back up from the ashes. Why it gives us such pain, and why such happiness. It's something that'll never be taken into consideration, and proven. It'll go unanswered by all of us, for as long as we exist.

I've told myself, "You're fine." It's come to be true. Everyone is fine. It's the anxiety of knowing that we may not be alright that thrills us into thinking otherwise. Yet; why do we have this sort of thrill? If it only brings negative upon us, then why does it even make it's presence?
I know that much of what I say is just an interrogation upon myself, questioning to myself what's happening to me, and what I'm feeling. It doesn't feel like it gets better, but no matter how much I try and deny it; I know that's false. I'll always be fine, and that's my permission to ask for if I chose otherwise.

I don't forget who I am. Or at least, who I used to be, and who I want to be again. The old me! The one who was truly confident, and beyond beautiful; not for looks, but for pureness. It showed through everything, and it still does today. I'm still the one who fills every sentence I speak with kindness, and sympathy, and ethical language. Not everybody has a heart as thick as mine. They've taken me down to the skin and bone, they've stripped me of what I actually know about myself. I've changed; just all too much. My transformation didn't help me, but only helped enrich the lives of the ones I love. Only to help them, but to never give a damn about myself. Never to regret anything I've done for them, but to only think twice about what I've done to myself. I used to ponder on how fantastic my life could've been if it hadn't been for my past. Then... I realize, I shouldn't... I just can't. It's not going to do anything but bring me to the realization that I've done nothing.
Then, I creep upon the fact that I shall accept who I am, and what I am. Who cares what others think, or what they bring towards me. It's within my permission who hurts me, and who doesn't. So, no more listening to the ones who bring me down, or call me names of uncertainty. I know, I'm fucking crazy. I like it that way, to be different from others. To embrace the darkness rather than to push it away. Yet, also to support the light and welcome it. I remember how I was the girl who stood up for herself, and the one who defended herself for whenever she wanted. When someone swung at her, she did the same back without hesitation. Or when they threatened her, she smirked at them with sarcasm. Now, she's changed from the way she views herself. Now, they take her books, and she begs for them back. They punch her, and kick her, and she believes she deserves it. She takes it as a punishment that was simply meant for her. That is not who I am anymore. Yes, I am human, and I make mistakes; don't we all? I know that I'm not always going to have people who like me, or who accept me for who I am or for what I do. I'm finally accepting that, and the reasoning why I have to just be who I am, and not hide myself from anybody, or defy who I am by the self harm I bring towards myself.
Every sense of harm or willingness punishment I bring to myself will come to an end, and be put to rest. My life is more important than that, and so is anybody else's. Leaving, or dying, would be selfish. It could not be beneficial in any way. It would only bring pain, to the ones I love, or the ones who knew me. The ones who always say me walking down the hallway, with those same shoes, and the same rusty headphone, wondering what my name was. Or the teacher who actually say my excellence and wondered how I was so much different from the other kids, or why I chose to sit in the back and do extra work for the "fun" of it. I'd be too much of a fool to leave home. To forget everything, and to rot in hell, and to place my focus on all my sins and the ones I've lost. It'd be selfish to myself, but most importantly, others that I love.

My heart is here to stay. To take on anything that comes my way. Yes, I'll always come to the point of crying, or to breaking down when necessary. That's just a part of life though, going through the struggle. Whether it's earlier on, or later in your years. Some have experienced both.

I'm happy. Wow... Haven't said that in a long while. But anyways, it's true. Even though right now might not be the best time to be at right now, and most of what I have and know is crashing upon me. I am happy, because I know that right now all I have to do is force a smile, then I can really do it without hesitation later when I know what it means to truly smile. I know that I'll be alright one day, it's only a matter of waiting when that time comes. Everyone is waiting, it's just the fact that only some are patient, while others struggle against what they cannot stand.

I'll live, and survive. I'll know how to handle my situations, and not face them by talking about them to ones of struggle for sympathy and self pity. I will develop habits that will help me through what I'm dealing with. I'll know what's good for me, and what's not. I'll come to realize that what I'm doing is not only good for myself, but for others. I'll remind myself of the girl I am, and who I need to be. I'll choose to love myself again, and to show my confidence. To not take any of it for granted, and to devour my beauty and my flaws. I'll wake up in the morning, look in the mirror, and just stare. Stare at my own body, and remind myself of who I am. Show and tell myself that I'll be alright, and I'll just last. I'll keep aiming for the stars, and not everybody has a heart as heavy as mine.

"Do you know who you are? 'Cause I know who you are. You're a pinch of perfect, a dash of worth it. Don't take your life, just stay tongue tied. I know it's hard."

Scarlet Tears

A little girl. Once was considered one of great passion and great carefulness. She had once been so happy, so calm and collected. Now, she was gone. That little girl left the body of this woman that was now strengthened, and hated. She was once that angel that people couldn't get enough of. The one who loved everything and saw no darkness in the world. She ran around in grass as tall as her, and explored the ground as if it had a beautiful structure, and was extraordinary. She stared at gravel as if it excited her, and gazed at trees as if they were smiling back at her. She found hope in nature, and a senseless element within it.

Now, this woman was demolished of her happiness. Nobody ruined it for her; only herself. She took a constant blame on everyone who entered into her life, and that they were the ones that killed her inside. Only, she was the one doing the damage. She peeled away the good of her life, and didn't know what to do or to expect from others. Her depression got worse; as did the environment around her. She had hoped that everyone around her would know exactly how she felt. Although, everyone just smiled, and lived on; while she didn't. She isolated herself to a point where she felt she had nobody. When in all actuality; she did. She had more than most. She was selfish, and hopeless. That's what she thought. When she saw everybody who contained happiness and kept it, she died a little inside. She noticed how she could never keep her head up high when needed. It was always shrugged. Her posture progressively downgraded every single day. Her neck strained gradually, as her legs ached from walking away from her loved ones too many times. Then, she galvanized the fact that it all became too much for her. 

She had finally figured it out. An end to all of her confusion. She didn't want love, or didn't need empathy. None of the sort, and she didn't want to find a man nor woman. She craved for the knowledge to know that she wasn't alone in the world. She wanted someone to reassure her that there was always help, and that there always will be. Not from a therapist, or counselor, nor social worker. But from someone who's been through the same journey, and made it back. From someone who understood her struggle, and her hatred towards herself. She needed inspiration. All she was provided with was friends that told her that she didn't deserve a place on this earth, and that her mind was useless. Once, she encountered a particular person who informed her that the breathes she took were of waste, and that her body belonged in the ground. She pondered on that thought, about what would happen if she did go. It would have been considered a selfish act for the ones who still resided on the other side. But, it was her decision. Whether she were to stay or go was her choice in time, and it wasn't a crime. Yet, it was a sin to most. Well... Then consider myself a sinner. 

She cried herself to sleep every night wondering what she could do to make the world better for herself. Once the tear hit her cheek; it was clear to her that there was nothing she could do. Only to put her focus on the essence of herself, and make it clear to her that living was the only option she had. Whether she had to force herself or not; she would accomplish it. She would achieve the impossible. She would rot all of the negative out of herself. If she didn't, she would have put the ones she loves, and their lives in danger. Her leaving would only create the domino affect. Once she was gone, more would go. She was told so. Her mother, informed her of her taking her own life if her baby left this world. The young man she loves, replied back to her with the simple form that if she went, he went. And her best friend, had always made her realize that she was everything to her. Plus, she was the same as her. None of this made anything better. It only made thinking harder to achieve. And more painful to consider. 

She had always dreamt of a perfect life. Where she would finally reside next to him, while we both cared and loved each other. Her parents and herself, would remain as they always had. They rejoiced in a beautiful relationship, and filled each other with honesty. Her best friend and her would love one another even more than the present; if that was even achievable. Then, most importantly, she would love herself. She would consider all of the wonderful things about her. Provide herself with some credit and continue to gather facts about herself that she didn't discover until now. 

But until that moment comes, she laid there. In the middle of the vacant room. No light to be found, not a utter of sound to be detected, and herself in the middle. Candles gathered around her, like she had always found peace in. Then, she'd glance at photos of the promising past, and remember how lovely her life was, and could've been. Photographs spread across a great distance, one next to another, in a non-linear pattern. Each one complimenting the next. Adjacent to her leg, rested a knife. One she had slept with in the night, and one that made her comfort increase by a gradual amount. The blade perfectly sharpened, and shining across the open window that was parallel to the ground wood. She stared out the window, to recognize the light that hit her face, and made it burn with a passion. She once again, saw the beauty that she had once saw as that little girl. She looked down once last time, staring at the pictures once more. Her life flashed before herself and she knew what she had to do. Her happiness was about to enter her body, as she left it. She spread the photographs further and further apart to get a good last look at all of them together. Her hand edged for the weapon that laid right beside her, and her body ached for it. Once it rested in her palm, she gripped it tighter. It released some energy out of her before the final draw. She lifted her head up higher, her smiling, and looking straight at the sun's ray. Suddenly, she held the edge of the blade directly upon her skin. She closed her eyes, wondered one last time why she was still here. And that was it... They finally noticed her Scarlet Tears. 

Here I Am; At Last

I am leaving, finally. This place has brought the worst out of me, and has showed me the worst of others. I walk these hallways with a fake smile, and a peppy walk for the sake of my own sanity. I forget that they already know; that I am already insane. That I've already lost my "cool". I never figured that what I would bring here, just to express who I am, would damage me, and show the evil of others I loved. I've cried here, I've ran here, I've hugged here, I've loved here, I've learned here, and I've taught here. I was educated on the well being of myself, and how it effects others around me.
I remember the start. I walked in the first day; only to be taunted on what I was doing here. How I was hit for standing in the school that soon, I would be out of. Then, I went through it all. I helped, laughed, cried and jolted down hallways even wondering what I was still doing here.
This place; I still call it home. It's where everyone I love is, and even my enemies. Though, I'd rather stay with them than my own self. It's where I showed the very best and the very worst of me.

When it's time to go, and I have to take that last walk down that same hallway I was beaten in, and verbally abused in. I'll remember one thing; I'm still alive. I survived. People like you and I; we're survivors, I was once told. Than I shall continue on that way, alive, and surviving. I'll walk out to my own transportation, turn around and take one last look at the school for a long while. I'll smile slightly, and remember who I am, and what I've done, and not regret any of it. I'll slaughter all of those who've deserved it for most of the year, and those who have hurt me. I'll stick my middle finger up to the ones who thought I could never make it, the ones who thrived for my death, and the persons who thought that I wouldn't succeed.
"I'll be my own villain from now on". I'll tell anyone who ever told me that I was a "freak" or a "sin", that I may be; but I'm fucking proud of it. I'll be sure to let them know that who I am is who I will always be, and who I will ever be. I do not plan on changing, not even for the ones who have known me for most of my existence. They know that what I am, and who I choose to be, is what I want to be, and who I need to be. Yes, I'll admit; I am different and unique, one of the originals. And that's what is so satisfying about it. Knowing that nobody could ever be like me, and nobody can ever take my place, or anybody else's place for that matter. I love it, and I thrive off of it. Yes, I may cry inside for my taunting, but that doesn't at all persuade me to change the way I am for anybody. My life has more worth than that, and I know that I was born to lead, not to follow.

So, my question is; Does it ever really get better? From what I've seen and experienced, it's up to you. It's what you do with yourself that determines that fate. Yes, fate. I said it. You can decide your own fate; you may not know what you're deciding upon, but you can choose the first or the second option. For me, things will never be better. I'll always have thoughts in my mind, and they will always linger. That'll never change, and they will never leave me. But, for others of a more optimistic side of them, it will most definitely get better. The world will continue on, and they will move with it. It's the way things work. Everyone is different, and are stable in different moments. Me, I'm naturally a very complex person, and I am very hard to figure out in a second. But, I come off as easy to figure out. That's only for the simple fact that I do not show all of who I am to everybody at once. Last time I did that, someone left me, for good. I'd hate for history to repeat itself. Especially since history isn't the most inspiring subject.

So, today is the day. The one time that I'll show everyone that I truly will be fine. If they do not believe my theory, then who cares. It's my choice of what I do to myself, and what I want to do. Everything I wear, everything I say, and everything I do has some sense of meaning. Whether it's that I am wearing a ring representing a lost loved one. Or me wearing a band t-shirt to symbolize that they're the ones who showed me I'll be okay. My actions are in much more depth and vibrant that most people's. That's what I admire about them, they have a grotesque meaning towards them. Grotesque and beautiful meaning towards them.

... I'll turn around. I'll smile slightly and remember who I am and what I've done, and not regret any of it. I repeat; I am the angel surrounded by light. As it is stated in common sense; you never create conflict with the light.

Here we are; I am free. At last.

My Main Point

I asked myself many times what I did to deserve this. I have been tortured, beaten, and ridiculed for most of my life. By many that I thought loved me and that I loved me. And some that purely hated who I was and wanted me to know that what I did was a sin. I don't understand why anybody on this earth, despite anything they've done, would have to face the punishment of what I've been through. I am different; so what? What does it matter to the persons who do not even have to live with me or grace my presence. For some, I thought they could be trusted. I trusted them with some of the secrets that I wouldn't even dare to tell most.

When I was little, I never felt any sense of God. He was never presented in my life, he never appeared when I needed him most. I never went to Church; Yet, my parents still strongly believe in his existence. I respect that, as I would for anybody, because I am strongly against religious discrimination, or any sort of discrimination. I never went to Church, I never prayed, or even asked for forgiveness when needed [Though sometimes I wish I should have at that moment]. I am unsure of which branch of Atheism I am. I have odd beliefs. I say this because I do not believe in God or Jesus Christ simply because I do not think that there should be any main spirit or Lord in the universe. My personal belief is that there is no central God or Lord. I do however; believe in spirits and ghosts. I sense this because I've seen them. Some call me a medium; also, because I've been able to do this since I was a little girl. I always thought that it was just my imagination. About three years ago, the worst day of my life occurred, and plummeted my depression even greater. My greatest inspirer notified me that she wasn't doing so good, and that she was returning to the hospital due to alcoholic issues that needed to be dealt with. It was only a few weeks; only a few weeks until I realized that she wouldn't make it. Her skin, increasing in the color yellow, and her skin, filled with bruises because of the thinning blood. Seeing her took a tole on me. So, I stopped seeing her for a while; biggest mistake of my life. I stopped because it broke me to see her in the condition that she was in at the time. I never saw that that may have been the last of what I saw of her, ever. I went back, only to see that she had gotten worse. I saw her; laying in what may have possibly been her death bed. 

I forbid talking about the day she died, for it was the worst experience I have ever went through. And I wouldn't wish it upon my worst enemy. It told a tale that should never be put into a book, something that killed the mind of what was once a little girl, and what was now a young woman who had seen too much of the world already. My motivation was gone, once I heard the hospital beeper go off signaling that she was gone. As I held her, I wished upon my spirits to take her and love her. I placed a kiss upon her forehead and whispered in her ear, "When the angels ask me what I loved most about life, I'll say you".  Then, as life went on, and things got worse, I saw more and more spirits coming for me. They would tell me things and whisper demeaning phrases in my ear when I was focusing on them. I consider this a gift; generously because I do believe that I can help some of them, or the ones that I would like to. When I talk to them; they call me an angel. They tell me that I am an angel surrounded by light, and that no dark can enter into my soul. When I was about twelve, I was quite mature for someone of my age. I started practicing Black Magic. And that was my escape, my gateway. When I was feeling as though depression had gotten to me again, I would light my candles. It was something that made me feel invincible. Then... I continued it. 

    Ever since then, my practice has been apart of it. Most persons do not understand the stand point of which it is in. I believe that everyone is naive, and that nobody truly understands something that they have not been through, or they do not believe in. To me, it's human nature. So, as I placed the knowledge of telling someone I loved what I had been doing; she was skeptical. She didn't understand why I was doing it when all of the benefits came from scratches on my legs and a burning sensation in my head, and maybe even cuts here and there. I always told people, "It isn't that bad", "I'll stop one day, when this wave of sadness has passed", or "This is my only escape from the conscious life". I was dragged, through the hallways. While others threw garbage and other sharp items at me, they told me I was weak and a freak. Someone who worshiped Satin and all of his decedents. I was beaten; only for the simple fact that I had drawn the spirits and subjects that came to me. They tied me up, and watched as they burned all of what I created. Or, even when someone took the time out of their life to actually carve wood, and make a wand-shaped figure. They came into school one day, asked me if this was what I was doing, and when I gave them the best policy; honesty, they beat me with that same 'wand'. They described to me that I would never amount to anything of the sort, and that I needed to stop, or they'd take the same 'wand', and drive it through my skin. I was held down, by boys bigger than me. They called me names, "Whore", "Slut", though I've never even been intimate with a guy. They didn't really know who I was or what I've been through. They didn't understand that what they were about to do to me, would ruin them for the rest of their lives, and for the rest of mine. They all took my legs and arms, and held me down to a degree where I couldn't move. Then, I saw it. The blade they pulled out. They laid it against multiple locations of my body, wondering where they were first going to place it. They rested it upon my legs, and sliced. One by one, they killed my skin. They tore through my skin, and ripped me apart on my upper thighs. They weren't that deep, but that didn't matter at all.  My life was threatened, it was deceived, and taken advantage of. So, I took advantage of what I could do to get rid of it as quickly as possible. 

After these horrific tragedies, I had never loved myself. Always thinking that I truly was a freak, and that I didn't deserve a spot on this planet. I never told anybody this; I never took into consideration that I could've just gone then. I never had any knowledge of how to actually demolish myself at that point in time, but I wish I had. My beliefs, my personal feelings, and my morals, are nothing but what I've been put through. It's nothing that I'm proud of; simply because I blamed myself for it for years. My faults were considered everything I did or acted upon. "Sorry" was a word that I said on a daily basis, when I said anything. It was a go-to saying, something that was necessary to be spoken when words left my mouth. I've never hated something, and never wished to; but this... I hated.

I always thought that I was the main suspect to what I've been through, because I let myself get into that position. But in some cases, I was the victim. Which I also hated, because I never wanted someone to have pity on me, but now I thrived for it. It wasn't something that was worth taking pride in, but something that I wanted to change one day, if I had the chance to.

"I hate you for ever pulling me back from the edge, I hate you for making all the sacrifices you did for me, I hate you for every time you ever bled for me, I hate you for saving me from myself, I hate you for never taking control of me. I love you for everything you took from me, I love you when you dominate and you violate me, I love you for every time you gave up on me, I love you for never delivering me from pain, I love you for never once giving me my way, I love you for always driving me insane. I hate you; I love you."

The Beauty of Death

Why? I know I keep doing this to myself as well, but why? Why the hell would I put myself in a position like this? My life has turned it's course, a course in which I do not want to be on. I'd rather just go. I'd rather just die wherever I may. I imagine how the spirits take me, and how they embrace my stupidity for what it is. They allow me to be free. Freedom! Yes, that's what I want. To be alone, forever. To never be seen again. I want to leave this world, or maybe even the country. I want to start fresh in my own mind. Contact is not what I'm asking for, To leave means to forget, that's what I want. Nothing more, nothing less. Yet, what does this world have to offer me? What would happen if I actually did leave? Would they miss me? No. Just simply, no. They hate me for who I am, what I've filled them with. It's disgusting. I am at least. What I've turned into. Everybody looks at me and sees a beautiful woman who could go on to do great things, yet, I've never seen it that way. I see a girl who contains all of her lies in her smile, who lies beyond belief to people she loves so that she can have a great amount of sympathy. Even though she's stopped it, she cannot fathom the fact that she even had the guts to do it. Her reasoning consumes all of her thoughts and her mind. She cannot think without crying out to the world, why? She is blind. Blinded by what she has painted herself as. She cannot she was she truly is anymore, and she never will. Once people understand that about her, she'll be fine. Just fine. Never better, in fact. She doesn't want the world to see how she is gradually dying inside. She's drowning in her thoughts, yet nobody sees. She is perfectly fine with that, she doesn't want anybody to know. Yet, she cannot hide it very well like she used to. Because she met the man she thought she'd love forever, and hold. And although that happened, he betrayed her. She doesn't blame him, he should've left sooner. She was a tyrant in the relationship. She should've just killed herself to make him free of her. She didn't want anything to do with the world. She urges to kill, not anybody though. The blade she sees everyday haunts her of her mind. It makes her wonder what she could do with it, it makes her ache. Why she couldn't just die instead, she doesn't know. Her death would've been the new beginning she'd always wanted. Everybody hurt her in her life, Yet, the biggest betrayal was the ones she put upon herself.

The way she thought, was indescribable. Nobody actually understood what she was thinking of on a daily routine. Mostly because it was against her oath made to friends and family. She couldn't let them see how bad she had gotten. If she did, her world would end for her. She would end it herself. No matter the consequences, and having the knowledge of knowing that she could never come back, or she would go straight to the depths of hell. Her notions that had been made in the real world had made her ponder on how she could've done such things. Most of us have done worse than her, but she has her own set of limits, ones that were exceeded for a long duration of time.

I miss it though. The pain, not of the ones people brought about to me. But the ones in which I brought myself. My self harm. I miss it all too much. The cutting, the feeling, the misery it came with. I remember it all too well, as if it will never arise in my life again. I'd come home, find the one thing that made me happy in the world, my razor. When I found it, I felt a sense of relief in my body. I cannot acquire the fact that I'd never feel it again. I resent myself towards it everyday, thinking about what my family and friends would think of me if I actually did do it. When I did do it, I was happy. I have never felt more relieved in my entire life. I could see it. My flesh, turn red within an instant of the blade hitting my skin. The adrenaline I felt from it. It was spectacular, it made me feel... Alive. For once. I could see the blood rushing down, rushing down my leg. It was cold, and it felt nice. It made me shiver at one point, but that's what made it exciting. Everything about it, the pain, the blood, the rush of energy, and the relief. It made me ponder on how I don't do it more often. Made me think of why I couldn't just do this for the rest of my life. It killed me to know that I'd never felt something quite like this. But... The best things come with the worst consequences. So.. Me cutting, Yes, I would've never thought.

When I think of death, I think of happiness. It engulfs my soul, it brings me to enlightenment. I don't know why, but I've never felt more of a sense of relief when I think of dying. I cannot think about being any more happier than when I dreamt of the wishes I bring upon myself that imagine me in the ground. I think of the worshipers I have been around, their love for God. For I have never felt him in my life, I have never had a sense of him, Ever. In all actuality, I have never felt any hope, or God, or Lord of any sort. Besides, if there is a god, then what has he done for me? Brought me into this world? I do not think of being in this world to be a privilege. I think of it to be a sin in itself. Bringing me into this world only made me want to leave it even more. I hate it, it brings me to tears every night, knowing that I cannot sleep. I stare, and glance at the wall. How white it is, how plain, and simple. It only sits there for decades and maybe even centuries, only for it to be knocked down in the future. I think about what it has gone through, it doesn't have to communicate, it only has to wait for it's death to come. In a way, I wish I was that same wall. I wouldn't have to communicate or contact any person, wouldn't have to be discriminated against or taunted by the people here. I would only have to acknowledge the presence of the world, and live in it, alone.

If I had lived in this world alone, I would've found more peace and essence in it, but the people that surround it, bring it down to a level that make people everyday want to leave.

Life was never what was wanted by the people like me. Like me, I am attracted to the darkness, the paranormal, and the unnatural, the things that do not appear as they seem. I appear to the subjects that bring me pain, and endurance. The ones that take the most strength. Concepts that bring me to accept that I am strong, and that I can do whatever I persist my mindset to.

I feed everyone lies, my heart's invested in it. I've seen so many of them come and go, so many of them left. I wish I had left, long ago. I am who I am, and this is who we are. I don't care if you leave or not, I'm used to it, I've gotten over it. I am the broken-hearted. I cannot stand the ones who call themselves saints, yet, have never once given themselves the essence of love and peace. Yes, I have sinned. Many times, I have done things that many cannot achieve, simply because they are not as fearless as I am. I am not afraid to get hurt, or even to die. My actions are consisted of the adrenaline that are the equivalency of death. They have the same feeling, the same rush, and the same passion. I'd never felt a better time in my life. When your heart pounds so hard, that you feel as if you're ending is near. It's the best feeling in the world.

Well, Goodbye Cruel and hateful world, hope to never see you again...