sometimes.

Just how my brain works sometimes. Sometimes- a chronicle of my one hour descent into insanity :P

Sometimes I hate myself. All I can do is lay on the floor and stare up at the ceiling, wondering why I can never be good enough.
     Self-loathing pounds like music in my temples, telling me what a worthless piece of s**t I am.
     Maybe this is why I grip cold metal, beautiful like the leaves of a Christmas tree and peel away my skin so carefully.
     Maybe I just hope that somewhere under this ugly heap of flesh there is something that just might be
               perfect enough for you.

Sometimes I wonder why I'm standing here. The burn marks on my arms have long since healed, but I still carry the bruises beneath the skin. No, I know you can't see them.
     Please don't touch.
               it still hurts.

Sometimes I cry, even though I never really did- at least, not before you. I used to think about a little glass vial, filled to the brim with my tears.
     When it's time to go, I could just leave it lying on the floor next to my beating heart with a note that read, "Here. This is for you. Don't forget me."
     Now I know better.  You'd probably just
               throw it all away.

Sometimes I still tell myself I'll be alright. I whisper lies that these wounds are only scratches. They'll heal in time.
     I know that's what I've told you, and I think you almost believe me. But I'm not okay.
     Oh, darling, your words hurt me
               more than you know.

Sometimes I stare out my window for hours and hours, watching the night sky and praying to the stars. I learned a long time ago that God doesn't give a s**t about me.
     I feel like the stars will understand, because they know how I feel. They scorch those too near them, so they have to go away. Far away, and somewhere cold. There they will not hurt people.
     But then their beauty makes me cry again and I know I am plain and insignificant, and I am
               nothing like them.

Sometimes I wish I was like a star. I know I'm already all too good at the hurting people part.
     But I wish I could be beautiful. I wish I could shine and make you see that I am special too. I wish I could make you look at me, and only me.
     But I am not beautiful, and I am not a star, spinning away in a beautiful dance among the galaxies. I am only me, a plain ugly rock. Able only to watch you gaze upon the stars as I
               fade back into planet Earth.

Reviews

[Hamkar]

The italic is very powerful in this piece. The honesty is brilliant. Sometimes, it is quite a strong word when used right. All in all, good job!

[Removed Account]

This is fantastic expression of thought.
It makes me think of when i was a few years younger 15 and 16....and what i thought was a big deal...boys and friends. How i thought this way...very clever writing.
I am thoroughly impressed.