Monday 15th May 2006

I’ve wanted to write all weekend yet the words just don’t seem to want to come. How am I feeling? What do I want to say? What are the words that refuse to take shape in my mouth? Am I just as white as these walls?

Less than a week ago a sad commercial could make me cry. Most songs would have a cord that raised something inside of me, tore at my strings and made my heart hurt. Tonight they wouldn’t come. Those tears. Those salty bitter sweet tears that warmed my cheeks. They said all the words that wouldn’t come, that I didn’t know how to say. They carried the pain that came from a time before speech, such a raw old emotion that it cannot be put down on paper, can’t be expressed in any other way. Any way other than the tears from my eyes, the bleeding scream from my throat and the scars on my body. They tell what my words cannot; they serve while the words fail.

I can feel them coming. I can feel them just below the surface. I’m curious as to tempt them or not. Do I want to feel them? Or will, once they begin their fall, they simply never stop coming? That’s always been my fear. That one day I will fall, fall onto the floor in sobs of agony, and never be able to get back up again. That the tears will never dry up. Because the pain is never-ending. And there’s never anyone there to catch you.

So what is it? What is there beneath the surface of bouncing and smiles that I’ve made for you? Why am I so afraid to break? What drives me to feel this need to be that girl? What makes me need their hands on me? Why do I have this pain in my chest? Why is the screaming always just around the corner? What makes me hold that blade in my hand? And why, why do I know that deep inside I have all of the answers to this yet cannot, perhaps will not, let myself know them? When will I leave whatever fantasy world I have created and come into this one? When will I look in the mirror and know the girl who is staring back at me? When will she not be a stranger to me?

In the end it all comes back to this. This core of dark, that ball of dirt that lies inside me, poisoning every inch of my being. Seeping through every vein and leaving nothing untainted. All of it bad, all of it dank, all of it me.