come sit next to me
sometimes i think if you'd just let me be who i am, then i could cope. the whole thing about cutting is... it's hard not to. it's release because sometimes this sadness builds until it's pushing against my rib cage so hard that i can't breathe, can't function. sometimes i can't cry because i'm just so completely numb, and it makes me wonder what's left of me, if i'm just like a corpse walking around --like dead woman walking, eh? then to cut and see the blood, feel the pain... it's proof. but my point with all this is, i need release, of some sort. and honestly it's got to come out; if not in music, and if not in words, then in blood. i still remember when this all started, because at first it was only lines drawn across my arms, that night after the show driving back to eunice. this overwhelming feeling that even there in LA i didn't fit in and somehow that meant i never would, ever (although i did soon enough), and it was altogether too much to handle. never at any point afterward have the feelings been so despairingly overwhelming, but i guess it was all downhill from there. and still is. i want it to be over/ i don't want it to be over. i want jonathan to stop looking at my arms in confusion, but i won't tell. i want to find every single pin i possess and give it to john, or burn them all, or throw them out the window while i'm driving. but i haven't. because i'm afraid to.please don't leave me now, i need you so much.
love forever,
*bex