Writings

Stream of Consciousness

A/N: This is just something I wrote last night. It's not happy. But I'm mostly over it so. It was hand written. So here.

~Samm ^~^

I'm pissed but I hurt. I can't decide how I feel. Maybe I'm just confused. Should I scream? Should I cry? At first I was mad but now I'm kinda sad. The more I think the worse it gets. What do I do? I don't like the pain but what can I do? He's not mine but he's not hers either. What am I supposed to do? To feel? What is there to do? To say? To feel? It it real or just a sick illusion? A trick on me? A sick, disgusting game? Why can't happy last? Why does life have to step on my heart? Why does happy vanish like smoke? Why is it always followed by this dark pain? Why always at night? Is Tyler truly right? Are there demons in the black abyss of the night? Why this one girl? Why not the others? Why does seeing him with her crush me? Why am I mad at her and not him? Why did I fall for him? Why does love have to hurt? What's so different about him? Why can't I love someone real? Someone in reach? Why couldn't if be Michael? Why can't I get mad at him? Why do I have to love him? Why is  it about him that I'm stuck on? Why can't I be blissfully unaware of love? The pain it brings. What is so damn special about him? Why does he make me so vulnerable? How does he make me so happy and so sad? Why is he so unattainable? Why does he mess with me so bad? How does he take my happy away, then bring it back only to take it once more? It's an endless circle of emotion. Broken scares the hell out of me. I wonder what it's like, to watch your funeral from the other side. The outside. From the third person. To be another onlooker. To see your body as if you were a stranger. As if you hadn't lived in that shell for your whole life. I wonder about death and the darkest things. Is that why I can't be happy? Because I'm sick, twisted and warped? Because I wonder about things like death and harm? Could that be why I'm not good enough for him? For anyone? Why do these thoughts worsen at night? Why do I have them at all? Are there really demons yelling? Is that what I'm hearing? Is that what I'm writing? Their words? Their thoughts? Their taunts? What's wrong with me? To think like that, there must be. What is it though? Why is my mind dark? Why am I so scared by reality? So scared that I have to live in my head. In fantasy worlds of my own design? Why do I need that control? Why do I hate losing that control when I never really had it? Why do clouds make me question reality? What is real and what is false? What's true and what's fake? Will I ever know? Will all those questions be answered upon death? What really will be known? Is death really the end? What truly makes life worthwhile? Will and of my many questions be answered ever or is this it? Will they remain unanswered? I guess only  time will tell...

A/N: It's kinda dark. I'm sorry. I was half asleep when I wrote this. Idk. 

~Samm ^~^