#just the endless permiating sadness i try to keep locked up inside

[cgspirl]

i think if i covered myself in fake blood and beat the shit out of the president of my college i think i'd get somewhere in life. i think i'd be happier

but i wouldn't be. it's the pertaining thoughts of the id that make me want to do those things. in truth, i'm gonna go to bed in a little bit wake up, go to class, and work on whatever assignments i need to work on before i go and have a lovely weekend with my romantic partner.

i think some part of me is so desperate for mindless, unstoppable, unrestrained violence because i'm deeply unhappy with where i am as a person in the current moment in time. i want to see something better in the mirror but instead i'm greeted with the same face i always am. but to those around me, they like that face! they like the face they see and they take joy in interacting with it and i don't understand why.

this face is miserable. i'm miserable. why would you want to be with something so miserable? and maybe it's because the misery is self-sustaining and i want to be miserable because it's what i know. i'm familiar in the anguish, not comfortable. doing my best when i can, trying my best when i can. giving up when it doesn't come easy because as the smartest in the room i have to know everything.

i really do think i'm tired. i think something inside me is so very, very tired and i have yet to let it rest because i am convinced it doesn't deserved to be loved so gently. that i don't deserve to be loved so gently when there's a hundred different people who would tell me otherwise. i don't want to love myself gently because i hate myself.

i want to be left in the dust of history so that i know i'll disappear when i'm dead. i don't want to be remembered for anything. i want to be forgotten because it's what i deserve. in my head i'm a god. i'm loved. i'm adored. the people love me. everyone loves me. in reality? i'm just another stranger passing in the night.

i think if i covered myself in blood and screamed at the top of my lungs in the middle of the library quad field at my school i think someone would finally understand. i don't want to go anywhere anymore. i don't want to be miserable anymore. i just want someone to understand that while i am reliable, i am burnt out.

i want to be able to say 'no' and not have to feel the urge to justify and reassure. 'no, i can't.' no 'sorry'. no apology. i think that's what i'm the most tired of: apologizing for being alive and trying to handle everything that gets thrown at me.

i'm so tired of justifying myself.

i want to cover myself in blood and scream at the top of my lungs and i don't want someone to ask if i'm okay. i want someone else to cover themselves to and join in. i want a choir of anguish at being alive because sometimes living is agony and there isn't a constructive way to get that agony out. sometimes it's covering yourself in blood and screaming until you can't scream anymore.