Tortures of the damned

We used to spend hours on our backs
feeling the grass between our toes
Drinking the sun and fighting away the clouds
loving every second with eachother

watching the summer rain from my window
I miss those times
the grass doesn't feel the same
without you

the stains on our clothes didn't bother us
we laughed all our troubles away
when winter came we made angels in the snow
cought snowflakes on on our tongues
loving every second with eachother

watching the summer rain from my window
I miss those times
the snow never felt the same
without you

I'd love to miss you
if you were still with me
but life is unbearable
when I'll never see your face again

"I'm a figure of forgotten speech
I'm out of reach"

/John Frusciante

"I'm impossible." To you, I wrote the sarcastic ":P" afterwards, so you wouldn't take me so seriously. But it's true and you can't trust me.

She said she was born an angel, but quickly added "Angels never survive very long down here." I wondered what she meant but she shook her head and said I'd never understand. I asked what happened, why she's not an angel anymore, and she began to explain.

"My wings were beautiful, white and big, and I could fly. I used to fly over all the big cities, looking down at the people. I took pity on them, feeling sorry that they couldn't experience the world I could."

I waited for her to continue but she seemed to be drifting away, reminiscing back to the time where she still had her wings. I was unsure whether or not to interrupt her, but I guess she read my mind because she started talking again.

"They said I was the most beautiful angel to ever decide to live on earth."
"They?"
"You don't know them and I can't really say."
"So you had a choice?"
"Of course. I could stay in heaven like most angels do, but I was curious. And look at the price I had to pay."

Silence, for a couple of seconds.

"He ripped my wings off. Just like that, they were gone, and I've been waiting for 13 years for them to grow back. They never will. I'll never be the angel I was and I still mourn myself every day."

I AM A MESS WITHOUT YOU

When we cry ourselves to sleep at night, it means we really live, and not just breathe through days and nights without finding something worth crying for. I guess that means I'm glad I'm crying, even though it hurts inside. I used to make myself hurt on the outside to put an end to the war inside of me, but I guess this is better.

I love you, whoever you are who's reading this. I love you. (And those words have such an impact)

I don't know if I'm crying myself to sleep because you left - or because you're still here.

It's the motto I've been living by. The quote I have permanently inked on my skin. Sometimes I feel like I can't live up to it. Sometimes everything in the world seems so completely useless. Why even try to fight when you know failure is inevitable? How can I preach to my friends that they shouldn't ruin their lives with drugs, that they shouldn't cut their arms to pieces, when I'm killing myself slowly too? How can I praise life when I'm really just looking forward to dying? Hypocrite bitch, shut the fuck up.

The world is filled with shallow monsters and people who think they're better than you.

You keep proving to others and yourself that you're worthless. Over and over again, the only thing you're really good at is disappointing people. If they only knew how hard you try, maybe they wouldn't look down on you so much. You try, every day, because sometimes you actually do something that people around you appreciate, even though you lost the energy to do so with a smile on your face a long long time ago. You're sitting there, writing down your thoughts, and can't find a single thing that gets you up in the morning except the fear of disappointing people until the point where the abandon you. So you try. You try so hard that your heart breaks inside because you really just wanna scream out how bad you feel instead of doing what they tell you to.

Instead of putting makeup on in the morning you put your smile on. Sometimes it lasts through the day, sometimes your whole world comes crumbling down within minutes. You've been through it so many times you don't even feel ashamed anymore. Crying is worthless, it doesn't get you anywhere. Screaming is worthless, no one hears you. Instead you stay quiet. Most kids do.

Deep inside you wonder when it's time to stop faking.