Why am I unhappy? I have so much that others would kill for, so why am I unhappy? Some think music is always the answer. But it's not. This is the life that I wanted, So come and confront it. I know it's wrong to hide behind fakery, but it seems to be all that's left from my terrible history. People come by and leave, I'm like a quest no one would bother to complete. I think but I also don't think--I don't know what to think. It hurts not to feel but to feel hurts far more.
School has changed me--for better or for worse, whatever type it chose, it still gave me a bad curse. Now is the time to Forgive. On the ledge, on the ledge, I feel so composed. But in my head, in my head, I’m about to explode.
You’d walk home from a day that you thought was going to be okay, but it appeared that even just sitting still was enough to drive you insane. The anger is taking over. I never wanted to yell, but it's like the world is getting colder. I need human interaction as a distraction. Being by myself causes too much friction. So this isn't a poem but rather a rant about how people are afraid of the dark. Or how people are scared of having their leg or arm hanging over the bed.
Stuck in this Hell of contradicting confusion. Want to open up but scared about choosing. The good luck man has stricken me dead. Everything is now hanging on a thread. For most, guilt is just a temporary thing, Not exactly an emotion but a feeling of the obscene. They say talk it out, do it. I know it's hard, but you can get through it. This was a poem-ish rant I made close to about a year ago, when my depression was really bad. I was keep on switching back and forth on whether or not I should share this...but I thought I should beca... Telling a story I thought you'd be into. But then you turned the other way, to another friend that I can't even name. Life is tough, but I still believe, that when I fall upon my knees, that's just another way of me being me.