(i'm sorry for us:
the dinosaurs roam the earth
the sky turns green
where i end and you begin.)
'Arienette' on a loop. Again. Again. I'm sorry, you aren't my arienette. No one is. I don't have one. I sing with a hoarse voice, i screamed in the car, i cried all day at work. Compose self. Work. Cry. Compose self. Work. Cry.
Haligh haligh haligh a lie. "you said you hated my suffering and you understood and youd take care of me. You would always be there, well where are you now?" (that's not the same, that's everyone who ever was, not you or them or no one) And i'm sorry, none of this is about you anymore. None of this is about us. I'm sorry. I'm sorry for us.
I did write. I scribbled, on the back of a bus schedule, until the words stopped and jammed up again and then i didn't care anymore again. I'm sorry. Not now. Now i am self-centered. I am broken-hearted with this extreme lonliness that is worse than all the pain i feel itself. Oh i cried all day bcause my legs were on fire with fire ants and every joint ached and shot with electricity and my palms and lips tingled with bzzts of numbness and everything ached and burned and numbed all at the same time and i can't take it i'm so tired, i'm so tired in a way that no sleep could help and i went crazy. Shoving through the doorway (my palms, bruised with layers of bruises that no one can see, but they hurt, pressed against the door, no on knows what pain that is) screaming at myself in the bathroom. I am going crazy. I can't go home, i dont have enough hours. I don't want to go home anyway, i want to be a nice normal person. I want to be a good employee that my coworkers and bosses don't hate. I want to stop crying and go out there and work. No one can see that i'm sick or in pain, only the fucking pain i am to them. Can't you FUCKING BE NORMAL FOR FIVE MINUTES? I am going crazy. And they don't care. Nobody cares. Not really. They care in tiny, removed, professional ways. Or maybe basic human ways. They maybe, jsut maybe care in a way as "I'm sorry that you feel bad." YES it's as base and shallow and ridiculous as that. As ridiculous as "i hope youf eel better." Fuck you. I'm tired of it. And saying "but i won't, i won't..." well we know what this all looks like. Overdramatic. But it's worse than just true. It's not even explaining the half of it.....
Erased a huge thing, am disgusting my own self with my words. I have to stop this entry now before i delete the whole thing. Blah blah. Hopelessness of not getting better vs. no one understanding or caring beyond a sort of functional duty of caring. Which is worse? That was the final argument i was trying to get at.
That, and us. I'm sorry for us.
But mostly me. Oh stay with me, arienette... until the wolves are away.
the dinosaurs roam the earth
the sky turns green
where i end and you begin.)
'Arienette' on a loop. Again. Again. I'm sorry, you aren't my arienette. No one is. I don't have one. I sing with a hoarse voice, i screamed in the car, i cried all day at work. Compose self. Work. Cry. Compose self. Work. Cry.
Haligh haligh haligh a lie. "you said you hated my suffering and you understood and youd take care of me. You would always be there, well where are you now?" (that's not the same, that's everyone who ever was, not you or them or no one) And i'm sorry, none of this is about you anymore. None of this is about us. I'm sorry. I'm sorry for us.
I did write. I scribbled, on the back of a bus schedule, until the words stopped and jammed up again and then i didn't care anymore again. I'm sorry. Not now. Now i am self-centered. I am broken-hearted with this extreme lonliness that is worse than all the pain i feel itself. Oh i cried all day bcause my legs were on fire with fire ants and every joint ached and shot with electricity and my palms and lips tingled with bzzts of numbness and everything ached and burned and numbed all at the same time and i can't take it i'm so tired, i'm so tired in a way that no sleep could help and i went crazy. Shoving through the doorway (my palms, bruised with layers of bruises that no one can see, but they hurt, pressed against the door, no on knows what pain that is) screaming at myself in the bathroom. I am going crazy. I can't go home, i dont have enough hours. I don't want to go home anyway, i want to be a nice normal person. I want to be a good employee that my coworkers and bosses don't hate. I want to stop crying and go out there and work. No one can see that i'm sick or in pain, only the fucking pain i am to them. Can't you FUCKING BE NORMAL FOR FIVE MINUTES? I am going crazy. And they don't care. Nobody cares. Not really. They care in tiny, removed, professional ways. Or maybe basic human ways. They maybe, jsut maybe care in a way as "I'm sorry that you feel bad." YES it's as base and shallow and ridiculous as that. As ridiculous as "i hope youf eel better." Fuck you. I'm tired of it. And saying "but i won't, i won't..." well we know what this all looks like. Overdramatic. But it's worse than just true. It's not even explaining the half of it.....
Erased a huge thing, am disgusting my own self with my words. I have to stop this entry now before i delete the whole thing. Blah blah. Hopelessness of not getting better vs. no one understanding or caring beyond a sort of functional duty of caring. Which is worse? That was the final argument i was trying to get at.
That, and us. I'm sorry for us.
But mostly me. Oh stay with me, arienette... until the wolves are away.
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And given the chance, i would scoop you up and fly away with you...but you are too beautiful for me.
~Katie.