How Interesting

Am I that ugly? Am I that horrible that no one ever looks at me and says... "I wish he would pay attention to me". Obviously I am the guy that is so grotesque that women gasp in fear, and hope that I never speake to them again. I'm that guy who's friends ask them not to talk to their other friends... Why exactly?! I'm sure as hell not sunshine and lolipops, but it turns out I bleed to!

Of course I'm long overdue to die. Put the pistol in my mouth and pull the trigger. I wonder if you even feel anything when the metal breaks the skin of the roof of your mouth and shreds your brain. I suppose it all depends on if a bullet can travel about three inches before an electrical current can go four inches. Either way it would be to close to dwell on it. I deserve to die, you know? My boosted ego has been telling me for too long that it's always the other person that has the problem, and not me. But, I think I've been lying to my self all this time, and it is me with the issues. It's too late in the game to change, and I'm too far past caring to even try. Maybe it's not about looks... maybe it's my soul that's rotten. Dried and blackened. Pulsing with little maggots of hate. That must be it. I've heard enough shit from certain people about how they don't care about looks. My soul is what's ugly. I can never be happy with a tormented soul such as mine, and can only bring suffering to those I meet with the hideousness of my nature. Suicide is the only answer; my death the only way to heal. If I didn't have such a busy day today I'd kill myself now. But, I really can't die when I have so much to do. I'll stuff the hurt inside my chest to burn away my flesh. I'll kill myself tommorow.

Current mood:

I wake as if from a dream. The world around me new yet familiar. For a thousand years I have slept it would seem. This is not the man who I once saw in the mirror. His eyes see things that I have not known. His heart beats with blood hotter than mine. Memories a shamble ruined and strewn. What a strange pallete for which to dine. The winter air burns in his throat as I run out the door. Fires in my soul tear his body apart. Smoke bleeds from his eyes as the sun warms me. A last blanket of warmth before I surrender my heart. One last kiss before I turn and flee.