THOSE WHO SUFFER LOVE
I've aquired a distinct taste for violence, lately.
I can't really explain it.
I just go from hyperactive to manic in about six seconds and don't ever sleep properly and live this whole seperate life up in my head.
And NO ONE will listen to me.
It's like I keep trying to talk about it, but everyone just thinks I'm being funny.
So I just keep moving until I can't feel it anymore and wait around waiting for the still to come back and eat me alive.
And I'd like to go back to thinking and feeling at the same time. I'm tired of beating myself up because logic always wins and I don't even know how to act irrationally.
Though, everything I seem to do while in my own prescence is more irrational than I have any warrant to do.
It goes back to feeling manic.
Acting out of control is the only way to feel like I'm back in control.
I just keep thinking about what a good drug addict I'd be.
I feel like one enough.
You know, we were talking about parts of self the other day in some class.
How physical, emotional, mental, and social are all interconnected and if one gets thrown off balance then they all do. And how for most girls it's something vapid and stupid like body image or acceptance.
But, you know, if only I was stupid enough to not be able to process exactly what it is for me down to a pinpoint.
If there's any bliss in ignorance, I feel like an unhappy child.
I don't feel like I fit anymore.
And, just to clarify- you wanna know the catalyst?
Well.
I'm too smart.
I know I'm too smart for any of my classes so I don't pay attention and venture off into my own.
And because I never do any work, I can't ever get ahead so I'm still stuck in this wading pool.
And all my friends are disposable because none of them get it, and I can' have any decent conversations anymore where I'm not guiding them in my own.
And it leaves me so out of control that I've done some stupid shit and begin to let myself deteriorate because I get so angry.
And that's really just it, isn't it?
I'm so fucking angry all the time, I can barely move.
So I split so I wouldn't have to feel it anymore, only I made it worse.
And tomorrow's one of the only social events I'll probably ever go to.
And I know exactly what I want, but even thinking it outloud would be compromising all the cynicism I've built up around me.
... And now I'm fucking bleeding. Again.