I Don't Care

A Chapter by Chaotica

Monday, December 29, 2008

I, officailly, don't exist.

No medicare card.
                               No SIN card.
                                                         No birth certificate.
                  No passport.

I don't exist.

I have no ID.

I

don't

exist.

Can't say I never wanted to not exist,
just saying I didn't expect it to feel like this.

Use to want this.
Want it so badly.
Want to live a life
that wasn't real.

Be somebody
who wasn't really
an anybody.

Now what?

                             Where am I?

When I need myself most,
I loose all the pieces of
f*****g paper and plastic
that proove I am alive.

Oh, yea, maybe there's the whole

                I'M NOT REALLY THERE

thing.

But that's.... like... a secret.

And right when I think

okay, maybe I can straighten myself out, make something of myself,
be somebody, do something, live for real and f**k all that s**t

I completely fall apart.

I'm a f*****g

GHOST.

And I'm f*****g pathetic.
I'm worthless.

A letdown to myself.

I hate every breath I take.

All I can think about it

gun

                                     gun

        gun

       GUN.

SoonsoonsoonSOON.

I
want want want.

I
wish wish wish.

I want to
diediedie.

Everything I am is a
lielielie.

I can't even start to explain
who badly it hurts inside.

Every smile I paint on my face
drains more of my soul.

Everytime I say

IM FINE

I feel somthing inside me reply

YOU LIE

and I'm starting to lose the truth
in all the self-deception.

I can't really say
what I'm thinking,
because the truth is,
I don't even know
anymore.

I swear I don't want it
to be this way, I swear
I want it to be different,
but I swear there is no
hope in change when this
is who I am inside.

I know there's no changing
what the truth is,
and what makes it even worse
is trying to cover it up with all these

Imokay's...

I wish I could just spit it out.

But if I tried, this is how it would sound.
The plain, blunt, straight up truth.

I DON'T WANT TO STOP CUTTING.
I LOVE IT.
IT CALMS ME.
I DON'T WANT TO PRETEND
THAT I'M OKAY OKAY OKAY
ALL THE F*****G TIME.
BECAUSE I'M NOT.
I LOVE THE BLOOD,
I LOVE THE SCARS.

I LOVE THE WAY I CAN FORGET
ALL THE F*****G PAIN I FEEL
FOR JUST A MINUTE,
IF ONLY JUST A MINUTE.

AND NO,
I'M NOT AFRAID OF DYING.

AND NO,
I DON'T HATE THAT YOU'RE ON DRUGS.

I'M JEALOUS.

I WANT TO INJECT HEROIN
INTO MY VIENS AND BE
BLISSFULLY UNAWARE.
AND THE REASON I ASK YOU TO STOP
IS BECAUSE I WANT TO BE YOU
AND I CAN'T BE YOU AND
IT'S F*****G WITH ME.

I WANT TO TAKE A F*****G GUN

AND PUT THE BARREL IN MY MOUTH

AND SUCK ON LEAD

AND BLOW THE BACK OF MY HEAD OUT

AND PAINT THE WALLS IN ALL MY MORBID F*****G THOUGHTS.

I WANT TO DIE.
YOU WANTED TO KNOW.

I've danced around the fact for so long,
giving you hints then taking them back.

NOW YOU KNOW.

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