Sometimes I wonder why I'm here, and I wonder why I'm put through this. I wonder why "I'm pieces of what I used to be, it's easier when you don't see me standing on my own two feet"... "Nothing's what it seems to be, I'm a replica, I'm a replica... empty shell inside of me, I'm not myself I'm a replica of me...."
It seems fitting. I feel like I'm going through the motions of life, while my mind races frantically and screaming behind bars and chains. I wish to be free, but I don't know what I want to be free from. "I was in the constant pain, I saw your shadow in the rain, I painted all your pictures red, I wish I had stayed home instead...." I wish I was home, all of the time. I'm safe here. I can cut here, I can sleep here, I can curl up in bed and feel safe, feel in control of my life for once. Painted all your pictures red.. it's so fitting. I could paint all of our pictures together in blood.. it would take an awful lot of blood. How many of you bet I could do it? ....
Sometimes I can't even remember what his voice sounded like when he said "I love you", and that scares me more than anything. I really just want him to love me again; even though he does. It's not the same. I'm being told that it's because he just doesn't want to be in a relationship period right now; which is better than not wanting to be in one with me. And yet... I found the most wonderful picture of someone who slashed their arm, each cut progressively deeper. I found it intriguing, and wondered how much of the pain inside of me would drain through the wounds. I wonder if there will ever be a cut deep enough to make it go away.
I wonder why I'm here.
I feel dull, like a penny thrown in the mud and left in a sewer after an innocent child discovered it wasn't shiney. I feel like I'm simply walking through life as an observer, and I can't participate because I'm numb to it. I'm numb, and yet I feel so much pain inside. "They say you're a bad cutter when you can't even feel it..." but can I feel anything at all?