chapter1??????????????

When I do something great, no one ever seems to remember, but when I do something wrong, no one can ever seem to forget.

Behind my smile is everything you'll never understand.

No matter what, no matter who, no matter what I do, somebody hates me.

Cause messing up takes practice, and I feel I'm well rehearsed.

I didn't want to admit it. It was easier to lie. Hide the hurt and emptiness to smile instead of cry.

I don't know if I'm getting better or just used to the pain.

Sometimes I wish I could just be a little kid again. So when life gets tough you can just play pretend. I wanna go back to when Santa did exist. When your daddy was the only boy you ever kissed. When Disney World was the best place to be. When the only movies you could see were rated G. When your biggest problem was learning to write your name and people didn't change...and your friends were the same. And every time you were sad or you had a bad day. You could just run to mommy and it would all be okay. I wanna go back to no hurt...and no pain...just laughter. When everyone always lives happily ever after.

When I cry at night, the only thing I can think to myself is...how can I seem so---perfectly fine in the morning. Why do I smile like nothing is wrong? And how does not one single person notice that I'm not okay?

It sucks to be alone, even when there are people all around you

Have you ever lived my life, have you ever spent one minute in my shoes? If you haven't, then tell me why you judge me like you do.

Every morning you get up and put on a fake smile...but what if one morning you didn't? Would anyone notice?

I'm not saying I have nothing. I'm not saying I'm gone completely. It's just sometimes it's all a bit too much to handle. Sometimes I feel like it's too much. I'm not going to do anything stupid because I know it will get better, it has to right? Otherwise there wouldn't be anyone who would live past their teenage years. But for now, just for now, it hurts.

You know sometimes, like when someone dies, and you're sad, and it's ok to be sad? But then there are times when you're supposed to be happy but you're sad anyway...and those times are even worse than the times when you're supposed to be sad.

I just don't feel like I know myself very well right now, so how can I be sure about anything? Most of the time I feel so awkward, you know, like I don't belong in my own skin, I get frustrated at everything, I could just scream and there's no reason for it, I just hate myself


I have two..:Behind my smile is a hurting heart. Behind my laugh, I'm falling apart. Look closely at me and you will see, the girl I am...isn't me. ANDDDDD.....: I think I'm afRIAD of discovering who i really am.


I live for that magical moment- the moment when I loose my self in a story, when I eat,sleep,breath a book.... when I must know what happens next


I wonder about raindrops. I wonder about how they're always falling down, tripping over their own feet, breaking their legs and forgetting their parachutes as they tumble right out of the sky toward an uncertain end. It's like someone is emptying their pockets over the earth and doesn't seem to care where the contents fall,doesn't seem to care that the raindrops burst when they hit the ground, that they shatter when they fall to the floor, that people curse the day the drop dares tap on their doors. I am a raindrop.

My parents emptied their pockets of me and left me to evaporate on a concrete slab.


I squint up at the early morning light. Someone picked up the sun and pinned it to the sky again, but everyday it hangs a little lower than the day before. It's like a negligent parent who only knows one half of who you are. It never seems how its absence changes people. How different we are in the dark.

I know the sky falls down every day. The sun drops into the ocean and splashes browns and reds and yellows and oranges into the world outside my window. A million leaves from a hundred different branches dip in the world, fluttering with the false promise of flight. The gust catches their withered wings only to force them downward, forgotten, left to be trampled by the soldiers.


Flickering images faded with age, frozen thoughts hovering precariously in dead space, a whirlwind of memories that slice through my soul.


Some times I think the loneliness inside of me is going to explode through my skin and sometimes I'm not sure if crying or screaming or laughing through the hysteria will solve anything at all. Sometimes I”m so desperate to touch to be touched to feel that I am almost certain I'm going to fall of a cliff an alternative universe where no one will ever be able to find me . It doesn't seem impossible. I've been screaming for years and no one has ever heard me.


My eyes break open. Two shattered windows in my mouth with glass. I focus on the transparent square wedged between me and my freedom. I want to smash this concrete world into oblivion. I want bigger, better, stronger. I want to be angry angry angry. I want to be the bird that flies away. These word are vomit. This shaky pen is my esophagus. This sheet of paper is my porcelain bowl.

My eyes are focused on the window and the promises of what could be. The promises of something grander, something greater, some reason for the madness in my bones, some explanation for my inability to do anything without ruining everything. There will be a bird. It will be white with streaks of gold like a crown atop its head.


can't remember the warmth of any kind of embrace. My arms ache from the inescapable ice of isolation. My own mother couldn't hold me in her arms. My father couldn't warm my frozen hands. I live in a world of nothing.
Hello.
World.
You will forget me.


The door opens to an abyss.
There is no color, no light , no promise of anything of anything but horror on the other side. No words. No directions. Just an open door that means the same thing every time. I can't say I wouldn't deserve it. But I'm here for something I never meant to do and no one seems to care that it was an accident. My parents never tried to help me.

I am not insane. I am not insane. I am not insane. I am not insane. I am not insane. I am not insane. I am not insane. I am not insane. I am not insane. I am not insane. I am not insane. I am not insane. I am not insane. I am not insane. I am not insane. I am not insane. I am not insane. I am not insane. I am not insane. I am not insane. I am not insane. I am not insane. I am not insane. I am not insane. I am not insane. I am not insane. I am not insane. I am not insane. I am not insane. I am not insane. I am not insane. I am not insane. I am not insane. I am not insane. I am not insane. I am not insane. I am not insane. I am not insane. I am not insane. I am not insane. I am not insane. I am not insane. I am not insane. I am not insane. I am not insane. I am not insane. I am not insane. I am not insane. I am not insane. I am not insane. I am not insane. I am not insane. I am not insane. I am not insane. I am not insane. I am not insane. I am not insane. I am not insane. I am not insane. I am not insane. I am not insane. I am not insane.


Horror rips my eyelids open. My body is drenched in a cold sweat, my brain swimming in unforgotten waves of pain. My eye settles on circles on black that dissolves in the darkness. I have no idea how long I've slept. I have no idea if I've scared my roommate with my dreams. Sometimes I scream out loud.


The screams are only the beginning.


Sometimes I wish I never had to sleep. Sometimes I think that if I stay very, very still, if I never move at all, things will change. I think if I freeze myself I can freeze the pain. Sometimes I won't move for hours. I will not move an inch.
Sometimes stands still nothing can go wrong.


My parents stop touching me when I was old enough to crawl. I've made classmates cry just by holding their hand. Teachers make me work alone so I wouldn't hurt the other children. I've never had a friend. I've never known the comfort of a mother's hug. I've never felt the tenderness of a father kiss. I'm not insane.

Because I'm a monster.


I don't understand when it started
I don't know why it started.
I don't anything about anything except for the screaming. My mother screaming when she realized she could no longer touch me . My father screaming when he realized what I'd done to my mother. My parents screaming when they'd lock me in my room and tell me I should be grateful. For their food. For their humane treatment for this thing that could possibly not be their child. For the yardstick to measure the distance I needed to keep away. I ruined their lives, is what they said to me. I stole their happiness. Destroyed my mother”s hope for ever having children ever again. Couldn't I see what I had done, is what they'd ask me. Couldn't I see that I'd ruined everything.
I've tried so hard to fix what I'd ruined. Tried every single day to be what they wanted. I tried every single day to be what they wanted. I tried all the time to be better but i never really knew how. I only know nowthat the scientist arer wrong. The world is flat. i know because
when no one is willing to give you a hand.
When no one wants to risk touching you.

Impressum

Tag der Veröffentlichung: 03.12.2011

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