2-18-00
As I sit here, smoking this cigarette that pushes me closer
to my death, I wish that I could be closer to all of you. I will never
have the kind of friendships I wish I had. Even though I really don't know
what kind of friendship that is, I just know that I don't have it. I have
this huge void in my life and I don't know how to fill it. I am not happy
with anything in my life. Some things are so wonderful, but that void
takes away from it. As I sit here against this window by the heater, I
feel like slitting my wrists. I fell so left out. I am a
thinker, not a doer. Damn me. I guess everyone wants more than what they have, it just seems
like they all have so much more. But I'm sure everyone feels such great
loneliness. I know that I am so fortunate, but I can't help but be
depressed. We all have our bad days. I just want to go somewhere
where I am a part of things, where I am appreciated and accepted. Damn me. I feel so sick. I need a razor. I need a savior.
I have so much anger, I need to scream - I just have nothing to
say. I've always had a problem with words. My head hurts. I
think that I suffer from talkers block. damn me. I am inches away from becoming a total recluse, fuck, I already
am one, I'm just "in the closet", so I guess I'm just inches away from
"coming out". I am simply known as "the girlfriend",
so my opinion means dick, I'm not even just another face in the crowd, I'm not present, I'm fucking invisible. My status is lower than a fucking
groupie, they get more respect than me. I am a nameless bimbo with no
talent, opinions, or ideals, I am just a trophy. I am such a masochist, I
stick around for the abuse, so I guess I can't really complain, huh? Damn
me. None of my close "friends" are interested in my
"poetry". They aren't interested in my work, let alone
supportive. Yet, I continue to sit here, alone, bitching about how awful
my life is and dreaming about my band, not doing a god damn thing or change it.
But as I said before, I am a thinker, not a doer. DAMN ME!
copywritten 2000 melissa ann cook
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