you make me sick.

How dare you make her feel like this, how dare you talk about us on some journal like we're the two worst people in the world. To say you miss me, and that things aren't the same, but then when i ask you whats wrong, you say nothing.

You're full of shit.
You say you're honest, and you're lying to my face.

So walk through the room like you're better then us both, but just so you sleep better at night, know that we're not talking about you, because we're not that petty.
If we had a problem, we'd come to you, like i'd go to any of my friends, and i'd sort the problem out one on one.

Argh. you make me so fucking angry.
She is the most wonderful fucking person in the entire world.
she is my best friend, because she is there for me, and i would do absolutely anything for her.
you think you can punish us for having so much in common?
you make yourself the third wheel.
It's a little hard to have a friendship with someone that you live with if they never even leave their fucking bedroom.

i will not let her be upset about this anymore.
i do not want to live with you anymore, fuck feeling uncomfortable in my own fucking house.
fuck you for thinking you can treat the both of us like shit when you feel like it, and then switch back to being normal.

fuck you for thinking you were sick, and keeping it to yourself, when we're right here.
we aren't intimidating so don't even give me that bullshit, you put this wall up, you built it all around yourself and you kept us out.

i don't want to talk to you anymore.
i don't want to live with you.

and i hope you know, i will not let you hurt her like this anymore.

and when i go to bed tonight, i'll slam that door extra hard.
just for you.

fucking selfish bitch.

We all get used to the dark eventually

Oh bring on the fucking nightmares
I'd rather scare half to death
Then face romance on a screen
Not after what I've seen
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I did this for you

Because you believed in me.
Then you went and turned around, walked away like we never knew eachother.

Now, I do this for me.

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I can't wait until january to be told I'm out of my mind.

You keep me sane, somehow. In my crazy mixed up head. What kind of person finds comfort in tales of the undead? Of course me.
Outweighing the fact that I'll be alone in a sold out room, over shadowed by the fact that the heartbeat was thicker when I though of not going out.
Sacrificing one anxiety attack situation for another.
I don't care, now I'm here, and I'm safe.
But not safe from them.
They'll get me soon.
Doubled dosed for this. Here's hoping it holds out till I fall asleep, because my heart just can't handle the voices getting louder.
They just scream and scream, and talk at lightening speed. And I can't get a word in at all, and I'm publicly answering them, or I'm telling them to stop talking. To stop being so loud, and then there's a part of me that says "stop talking to yourself, you're making yourself look crazy." And me saying it out loud, its even worse.

It's not the public I have such an issue dealing with now, because singing on stage just, well it would be pointless to have that fear. The passion for it overshadows it too much, pushes into that back corner that you can't see because that god that lights hitting you so hard that you can't make out more than the first 5 rows of faces.

Even though they're all crushed into the barrier.

Now, take a deep breath..

and hit the lights.

-a
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Too tierd to even care

Too tierd to smile today,
Too tierd to pretend I can hold it together.
Too tierd to breathe,
Too tierd to stop shaking.
Too tierd to swallow the pills that turns the volume down on the voices in my head.

Once your a mess, you're no longer hot. I make being a mess, hot compared to being this crazy.

-a
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I'm dropping hints like bait in the ocean but boy, you're just not biting.

I will for me. But not for you.
Its mind shaking to know, that I just don't belong to you anymore. And there's not apart of me that does. There's no part of you that wants me, and I only have your medication to blame.
Because I'm falling into routine. Build a wall around me, to stop me from blaming myself.

Tear it down.
-a
Sent from my BlackBerry® smartphone on 3

Terrified

I give myself anxiety attacks with the thought of growing older.
Making commitments and taking my life (into my own hands)
Having nobody have the right, to tell me how to live and learn.
Every scar, every story.
Its all mine, its all my tale.
One day I could write a book with the misfortune I've been through.
But ill never know if it comes with a happy ending.

I can't wait to escape to the place I've been calling home, even if I've never been there.

I miss places I've never been. Missing hearts I never loved.

Until now.

-a
Sent from my BlackBerry® smartphone on 3