Sometimes I
punch myself in the face, but I have to learn how to deal with this feeling. Is
it good this way? Is it going better? Well, I have cried quiet a lot, in silent,
without a single tear. It is the goddamn worst cry ever, the one from inside,
which lays down there, deep inside, on the bottom of my mind. The truth says I
am an asshole, the one unloved who deserves to die, but who cares, right? Well,
I do and apparently, it became a good way to deal this if I just do not care,
at all. Which sucks, by the way. Specially because my – silent – way of dealing
with “not caring at all” thing is just a base for my own faithless thoughts. What
is next? What am I going to have to wait from you? Pity? Mercy? I want nothing,
but my three years-old again. Can it be? Well, I am stuck inside my own
thoughts and lost inside my mind and guess what, you are not helping. Guess
what, once again, you can do nothing! So, sit back, relax and have a smoke.
Life goes on and I am not ready to leave you, so you are. You must ask yourself
how I feel, but I feel great, trust me. Self-destruction is my favorite
subject. A brand new way of life when what comes is profit, gain and pain,
sometimes. It happens quiet a lot in India, does not? Well, there is a hell of
people there, so I am – pretty - sure somebody there would understand me,
somehow. Can I say one last thing? I would kill myself before giving up on you,
but I do care about my self-respect – somehow – despite the fact you will have
to – really – leave me if you care about yourself that much. A sick me. A sick
life. A Sick boy with a sick addiction – if there is some way an addiction cannot
be sick, let me know – with a sick mind working on a sick body. Leave me as
soon as you feel free for it, but leave me whenever you want, do not think
about me getting high during classes or mind about the bollocks. It is just a
pity life, without easy gain, so I must die in the comfort of my couch. What
else can I do? My mind keeps telling me I am a freak, trying to be
different, but keeps acting like everybody. A sick lie. I guess I will punch
myself again. Good Night, folks. That is all, for now.
I guess punches keep my mind focused in something different than my stomachaches or chest pain.
Stronger. Better one. Relief.
Tks.
26/2
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