Ive been smoking too many cigarettes, writing about you. writing about how the hate and love coincide so close together you cant tell the difference. you love the sensation, the excitement, the high of deprivation. the beauty of refusal to the body really alters ones state of mind. are you in control? or out?[why is this out of control. i cant go under, please don't let me sink] the love you have for this self hatred, that is the love to loathe one\'s self, seems to strengthen on a daily basis. you hate how you love to mistreat the awful disgusting human body, but you do it anyway. the movie is beginning; they're all snuggled into watch you play your part.[they can all see me breaking down. don't fall, not now, I CANT]. in the movie your character is battling the evil, vicious demon, otherwise known as yourself. your own worst enemy, the girl glaring back at you in the mirror. eyes full of emptiness, skin as white as snow, she creeps and she grabs hand of you. promising ever so sweetly, gently, calmly "I'll set you free! I'll let you go!"....or so she says.[you promised you'd let me go] but to have her by your side, holding your hand sounds sort of refreshing. she's there for you when no one else is around, picks you up when you're down [she never lets you go] you cant decided which up is up and which down is down anymore. normal to you is no longer normal to the average person you'd approach on the street. with this insanely large amount of self hatred boiled into one, gigantic pot of pain you slowly start pouring the steaming hot mixture all over your body. [i don't wanna drown, but it wont stop and I'm scared, really scared].
{you need her. you need the mirror. you need the pain}
