spitting out for razorblades, starving for attention

For the first time since R's death i was mad at her. I was mad that she took her own life and left everyone who ever loved her and cared about her to have so much pain fill their heart. The beauty she had in her no one else can ever have...I felt selfish then for wanting her to still be here, go through all the pain she was going through even longer. I dont know when she broke but i wish that i had the power to have saved her.This is a poem she wrote before and i wanted to share it because i think its absolutely amazing.

Untitled

Cigarettes and chocolate milk

A teenage girl adorned in black silk

In her room alone she weeps

She prays the lord her soul to keep

Her soul to keep

She takes the knife

Her body twists

She brings it close to her ivory wrists

Shes all alone

With nowhere to turn

And as she cuts

Her acid tears burn

Through her plastic masks

The ones she shows

To the people around

So no one knows

And she keeps it well

This pain that she hides

And they'll never know

Thats shes dead inside

And all the things

She cant undo

Are the walls of the hell

Shes going through

And no one knows

Shes not surprised

She hides it well

Behind blue eyes

And they never will

But thats okay

Cause she cant hide it

For one more day

When they find her here

It will all be laid bare

Cause she left a book

And her stories in there

Her reasons why

Her shattered dreams

Her broken heart

Her broken wings

And on each page

Theres a tear that she cried

But the last page is blank

The day that she died.

I'm tired and i'm sick...and i just feel...nothing really. I feel nothing at all. It always comes all of a sudden, just like that and i seem to have no power to make it leave. I sit around and wait until it passes because thats all i can really do. I dont have anybody to talk to about it...because i dont think they care.And in this messed up mind of mine, i think that everything is okay. I make fairy tale worlds inside my head and push people away because they think i'm immature and just dont think about the future. But i do. I really do...i just choose to live in this make-believe world so i dont have to be depressed more than i already am. If that makes me immature...then I am IMMATURE. Call me names...i could care less.Well thats what i try to make you think but i dont think people realize that they can make me want to cry with one wrong look...or one simple sentence. I am so weak.

9:52 p.m. - 2003-03-11