I’m sorry.

It kills me to know that i let you down. When i said i would never let you go i meant every word i said. I’m sorry that i broke my promise to you. I told you that i would love you forever, that i would always be their  even if no one else was and that you would never have to be alone again, But i am here now. Without you. Completely alone. I am sorry for lying to you and i am sorry that we are no longer happy and that things didn’t turn out the way we had planned. After everything which has happened between us i have trouble coming to terms with the fact that we will never be together again, that i no longer make you happy and that i too am part of the long list of people who have hurt you in your life. I told you i would love you no matter what happened, no matter what you did to me and no matter how much you hurt me. To this day i still believe they are the truest words i have ever told an other person. I still love you, nothing you did to me has made me stop, but perhaps it just hurt me to much to be with you. You told me things about your life which broke my heart, i wanted more than anything to make you happy again and the last thing i ever wanted to do was add to your pain but i guess everything happens for a reason and somethings are not meant to be.

The only things i think about are sex and killing myself.

It’s probably not a good thing that the only two things which don’t leave my mind are sex and suicide. I think it’s stupid really, but then again everything is stupid. I struggle to get past the thought that their is no point in life because we are going to die anyway. I don’t understand why we can’t get it over and done with now and save ourselves all of the pain and anguish which we will all inevitably endure. Why were we even born in the first place? When i tell people this they respond with “Their are more happy times than sad times and it is all worth it in the end” However i can’t possibly understand this when on a daily basis i don’t even reach a level of being ‘ok’. Sometimes i wonder why i haven’t killed myself yet and i realise that i am too scared to do so. They say that it is good to be afraid because it means you have something to lose, it’s something i think about a lot really because i find it difficult to identify what it is that is preventing me to take my life.

“the father of lies and all that is false”

He tells you things about yourself, about other people and about circumstances that are just not true. He begins by bombarding your mind with little nagging doubts and fears. He moves slowly and cautiously. He knows your insecurities and fears. He has studied you for a long time.

Work In Progress #2 [Another Bit of Action]

Domus Necrophagous

The shotgun deafeningly tears through the woman’s legs, shredding everything near the knees and bringing her body to the ground.
The body doesn’t lay still for long. Only seconds after hitting the ground it is already struggling to drag its broken form back onto devastated legs. The words horrifying and pitiful mesh together in his head as he is forced to consider what he’s seeing while he watches the mindless creature desperately trying to accomplish the impossible just to get at him and presumably rip him to pieces with teeth and fingers that are already torn so badly that bone is protruding dangerously from some fingertips.
Mercy and anger urge the same reaction as he levels the barrel at the snarling face of the thing clumsily pulling itself towards him and he presses his index finger against the trigger. A mist of bone and blood, brain and flesh spreads out…

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I don’t understand.

I don’t understand anything really, why i constantly have the feelings which i have. I don’t think its normal but perhaps it is. It makes me sad when i tell you something and you say “Shut up. your going to be fine. Don’t even worry” It makes me feel like you couldn’t care less and you just want me to leave you alone, i know that you don’t realise as your saying this to me i’m sitting alone in my room crying contemplating weather or not i should get one of my knifes out. It also shows me how your so far from understanding the way i feel. How no matter what i say to you, how much i tell you and how hard i try to explain it to you it doesn’t matter, because it will probably never ever make sense. And if you don’t understand then i sure as hell know that no one else in the world will either and knowing this makes me feel more alone than you could ever imagine. When they told my grandmother had depression and she refused to get out of bed every day, that she refused to eat or do the most normal of things i thought that it couldn’t possibly be true, i thought she was either crazy or they where lying, and when my mother told me she wants to kill herself i couldn’t possibly imagine why one would want to do such a terrible thing, when i she told me that every second of every day she wanted to die, when she was sick she would tell me she hopes that she never gets better and hopefully she will die soon and i never ever understood.I thought it would be impossible and i thought i knew everything, i thought her life was easy for she has a husband who loves her and children who care for her, she has a house to live in and dose not need a job because her husband provides for her. But i knew nothing. I asked her why she doesn’t just do it already and stop talking about, i realise now how mean that was. She told me that Jesus says that if you kill yourself you go to hell. I know that she believes this to be true. I was sad she didn’t value me or anyone else in my family enough to want stay alive for them. When I started to feel the same way things started to make sense to me, the strange behaviour and all the negative thoughts, for it too stopped wanting to get out of bed, i stopped wanting to do things which i once enjoyed and i started wishing every single night that i would not wake up in the morning. I feel terrible for never understanding, before. For not helping, or even trying. I know what it is like, and i also know that me saying “well then why don’t you do it already” is not the right response at all. I used to think people where just saying that they wanted to kill themselves, i didn’t understand how anyone could possibly ever mean it. Now that i know someone saying the very worlds i told my mother could end a life i regret it. 

I don’t know.

I am unsure of weather i view my recognition that no one is actually ever going to view this blog is positive or negative. 

It is a shame.

It is a shame i don’t know how to write with skill, to express my thoughts in ways that matter.

It is always on my mind. Always, every second of the day, but nobody at all knows. Not even my best friend, don’t get me wrong i am dying to tell him everything i think,  to tell him that i want to end my life, that i have played the scene over and over again in my mind thousands of times until it has reached perfection. However it is probably better this way. In  the back of my mind i fear that the things i do to myself now will lead me to have a bad future. In fact i know for sure that is the case. But do i care? i try to tell myself i don’t. That i do not value my life, that i don’t care for my future. But their is always that small sense of hope, it kills me really. I sometimes think that if i where to kill myself i would have done it already, but i feel that every single day i am getting closer to the moment when i end my own life. However as much as i want to stop the things i do and become happy i fear the feelings which will come rushing back if i do. I seem to be stuck in a constant cycle of depression shame hope and disappointment.