Self-control
I think I'm going insane. No freak, but I'm really am. I want to make this blog my personality, my blog. Something which belongs to me only. And since I'm going insane, this blog is going to be insane too. Because I'm crazy, absurd, ridiculous. I'm just plain derange. I'll just blog about things that doesn't have a piece of reality, like my feelings without a reason. Like a tree without a root, like a heaven without a hell. Like me without my senses.
I think I'm going to die, if not I'll think about dying so much that I'll just give in unconciously until I subconciously commit sucide and die. Then I'll be hurl to hell, thrust in the face of Satan but I'll be too insane to even think. I will be an idiot until even moron laugh at me. My tuant nerves will not rest, but in helll i'll again think of dying until dead is just another word and makes no senses to me anymore. Everything is just a facade and nothing is real anymore.
I'm just so addicted to cutting. No, I'm not cutting myself yet. But still I'm so tempted to cut myself up and feel something real for once. Something that lingers and will not go away. And pain is one of them that lingers and stay and real, of course. Pain, a dose of it will heal me. My medicine, my remedy. I'm a saddist, a cynic, a nihilist, whatever you call me. I just have no more faith left to live. I'm crazy. I need to live on the extreme, step over the line to feel, to live because I feel that I don't exist. It's just too painful to be breathing sometimes. I need to live, not breath. I just don't want to care. I want to cut and cut myself more. At least at that I exist.
I want to die. I kept reminiscing the good old days when I can just pop a dozen pills down my throat and feel like death touch me and cacoon me in its warm embrace. People who didn't feel this or try this before think I'm crazy, derange but the feeling is just so full, so wonderful. I'm in love with death itself. I must die. Yes, die. DIE!!! I must. Afterall, we all all born to die, isn't it?
People sometimes ask me whar's my reason for attempting suicide last time, then I ask you what's your reason to live? I search and searched but I can't find any.
I think I'm going to die, if not I'll think about dying so much that I'll just give in unconciously until I subconciously commit sucide and die. Then I'll be hurl to hell, thrust in the face of Satan but I'll be too insane to even think. I will be an idiot until even moron laugh at me. My tuant nerves will not rest, but in helll i'll again think of dying until dead is just another word and makes no senses to me anymore. Everything is just a facade and nothing is real anymore.
I'm just so addicted to cutting. No, I'm not cutting myself yet. But still I'm so tempted to cut myself up and feel something real for once. Something that lingers and will not go away. And pain is one of them that lingers and stay and real, of course. Pain, a dose of it will heal me. My medicine, my remedy. I'm a saddist, a cynic, a nihilist, whatever you call me. I just have no more faith left to live. I'm crazy. I need to live on the extreme, step over the line to feel, to live because I feel that I don't exist. It's just too painful to be breathing sometimes. I need to live, not breath. I just don't want to care. I want to cut and cut myself more. At least at that I exist.
I want to die. I kept reminiscing the good old days when I can just pop a dozen pills down my throat and feel like death touch me and cacoon me in its warm embrace. People who didn't feel this or try this before think I'm crazy, derange but the feeling is just so full, so wonderful. I'm in love with death itself. I must die. Yes, die. DIE!!! I must. Afterall, we all all born to die, isn't it?
People sometimes ask me whar's my reason for attempting suicide last time, then I ask you what's your reason to live? I search and searched but I can't find any.
posted by b£ü®ģü®£ @ 12:17 AM
<< Home