Goth girl with an e-diary

These haunting words reach out to me, the droning string being all I have taking me out of this realm of pain and extreme discomfort. All is internal now, my exposed armor weakens by the day. My core ungaurded. These words that float out of magnetic coils are alien to me, their meaning lost but their tone a warm hug. A tight hug. The tighest that I need. Without awkwardness punctated by extreme doubt. This foreign matter lodged in my 外れs pains me day after day draining me of all enjoyments. I will conspire and destroy and feed and all will be wrong with the world. That’s a lie. I i…….I don’t want this anymore, why does it hurt so bad, why does it consume all days. Why does it infect every aspect of myself, I know what to do and yet this bitter iron taste this horrid desire to doubt. Am I truly that worthless? No one bullies me, only I do. I’m my own worst friend, I cut and burn and force insomnia. I make things late, I make things rushed, I distract myself because……Why the fuck would you do that to someone? What the fuck is wrong with you?! I didn’t do anything to you I was just a weird and awkward kid and you wouldn’t stop

I told you to

I told you again and again and it hurt then and it hurts now

I can’t fucking trust anyone because of you

I can blame it on everything I can flip flop every day but at the end of the day no one was there for me then and I can’t feel safe because my mind will forever have a black patch that screams someone will do it again. Fucking finally I cried. I hope that bastard got what he deserved, I hope I was the only one. I hope I can burn this damaged flesh and rise from the ashes. I think I can, I know I can, I have all the time in the world to remember more, I have all the time I need to shed all this dead weight. I know what I deserve and it wasn’t you, or the one prior, I should’ve stuck up for myself always. give an inch of doubt and people will take as many miles as they can get out. You might find this funny but I think these pieces take real strength, real courage and comfort to just….lose myself in them. To find my conclusions to try rhymes, to give up. To do whatever I can as best as I can. Maybe they’re cringe af, a goth girl with an ediary hahahahaha but I dunno. This shit works. I come back and reread them all, and each time I only feel better about them. It felt good to admit it, it felt good to call a person in the worst memory a piece of shit. I should wash off the pheromones of a doubting weakling, they probably don’t smell cute at all.


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