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Definition of Beauty

I am not beautiful. I am neither beautiful on the inside nor am I on the outside. So don't fucking lie to me. I know I'll never be good enough.

You know what is beautiful? Death. Death is beautiful because it's the end of all things to come. Once someone is dead they can no longer hurt or be hurt. To be honest, sometimes I wish I was dead.

Today, I cut myself. Not deep, but enough to shed a decent amount of blood. I was suprised at how tolerant I've become to the pain of razors. They feel simply like a pinch now and nothing more. I found myself wishing I had a knife or a sharp pair of scissors. Of course, I was disappointed in my actions later. I promised myself never to cut again and here I do it again. It's become a habit I simply won't ever break.

It's not even fair that I feel this way.


I'm in one of those controversial moods. The kind where you're just too preoccupied with thinking that you couldn't care either way when someone asks you an opinion.

Honestly, I could drown myself in thoughts, if my brain's an ocean, right now I'm treading water. You can only tread so long until you get tired and simply stop, falling into the current and unable to get the strength to swim back up to the surface. That's right; drowning.

Drowning: To die by water or other liquid suffocation. It has always been one of my fears. Being engulfed by liquid, then unable to use your lungs to breath, desperation tugging at your every sense.

I just can't think straight anymore. I wonder if somethings gone wrong with me. I just dont know anymore

Don't You Know? Things Change

Looking back, things have changed.

You can never tell whether they've been an improvement, but I can say one thing: Times have gotten better. I don't write like I used to, I can't even write one word without wanting to walk away. It seems my fingers just wont type what I want them to say anymore. Not like they did. Depression brought out the worst in me. It unleashed a monster I don't even want to talk about anymore. Depression rubbed my skin until it was raw, until the flesh rubbed off and there was nothing but bones; the very basic structure of my existence. When you're going through a rough time its when you can see yourself as you truly are, unblocked by the lies and fantasies swimming in your head.

Reality is what hurts the most, but it is the one and only truth. If you look at life in a different perspective, there is no such thing as love; only desperation. We cling to each other to create some sort of meaning to our existence. Without others we would be nothing. All along, I think that's what I was searching for. Someone to "love" me to fill in for how much I hated myself. I wonder if I ever found it, or all I found were friends. Friends who don't love me, but make my existence worth something.

I feel like now that the pressures gone, I'm waking up from some long nightmare, and now I'm unable to move on. I'm a person who lives in the past, who dwells on what could've been. I analyze everything I did. I spend hours rereading things I wrote, looking over pictures as I try to find a reason for what I did. A reason for why I wasn't accepted as myself, or why I almost starved myself to death, or cut myself in the bathroom until there was a puddle of blood on the floor. I wonder why I couldn't just be content with myself, why I couldn't accept who I was instead of throwing it all away.

If you know me as I am now and theres a 1 in a million chance youre reading this, I am not the same. I'm no longer the pitiful hallow person I once was. I live now, and I don't care what you think. I don't care if you think I'm boring or uninteresting, or if I get so damn nervous around people that everything I say will come out in a mumble. I can be myself and that's something I haven't been able to be in a long time. I've had enough of the shit I've gone through and I'm ready to start over.

I'm a different person. I'm stronger now, not the little piece of nothing in the back of the classroom. I am somebody. You may not like me for who I am, but do I give a fuck? It's not what you think, its about what I think. And if we don't share the same train of thought, well I am sorry, but you were never worth a piece of my mind to begin with.

Maybe this all changed because I got to go to a new enviroment, a place no one knew the awful things I did. The horrible things to myself and to others... and the things they did to me. Now no one knows me, or they don't know the old me. They can judge me based off who I am now, and not who I was a year or two ago. I don't carry along the secrets I did back at Central. I am like a new person presented with the oppertunity to start over, to turn over a new leaf. I love my life now and I wouldn't trade it for the world. I have people who understand me, who are just as messed up and twisted but have somehow overcome it all.

So for the people who aren't as strong, your day will come. You can only be pushed down so many times before you rise up and against the people who hurt you, the people who constantly beat you down, returning the favor in the way they didn't to you; silence.

Overall, I have learned from my past, and I won't be leaving it behind anytime soon, as there will always be a piece of it thats burrowed deep down inside of me, the last piece to lifes puzzle that I won't let go of. You'll have to kill me first. No longer will I be cowered in the corner, dissapearing from life, I'll be the one rising up and proving you wrong, the one brave enough to contrdicts what the monster in your head tells you. Now that I am stronger, things will be different.


I don't want anything for Christmas! This is a first for me... I usually want something. Like a camera, a cell, a new laptop. I kind of have all that already though... I dunno.
I'm bored and depressed... there's nothing to do. Cady came over because she and I were do bored we were about to die. I watched White Noise 2 which was good up until the really gay ending.

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April 2012


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