The Writer's Library.

Touching this paper again, reminds me of all the things I’ve done. When I go to bed at night, I still feel...empty. Anger, passion, emotions, all are fleeting. The only thing I’m left with is this quiet hollowness. An indifference that can’t seem to sit straight. It sits slumped, on its seat, but not touching his desk. His head is hung, staring off somewhere past his feet. Sometimes I wonder if it really matters if I close my eyes when I lay to rest. Open or closed, I don’t seem to get real sleep anyway. I can’t even remember my dreams anymore; my dreams make it worth going to bed. As I lay here I can feel the cuts on my feet. I often go out by my favorite tree, but I don’t bother with shoes. My lemon tree has thorns. I don’t mind the cuts on my feet, I hardly feel pain anymore. It’s the beginning of spring, and despite this, I don’t feel the joy and hope that follows this season.  The only hope I’ve felt caught in my throat when I saw all the butterflies and dragonfli...

Are you tired yet? Are you tired of fighting me? I'm tired. I've been so tired for so long. I've been waiting for you to give up. I want to curl up on the floor. I want to sleep, but you haven't let me sleep. I'm going mad, even now.  Three days without sleep. Three weeks, three months.  "Time will go by, and he will forget." Time went by, and he has not forgotten, not in the least. He remembers more and more each day and each night. I just want to die, so it would be over already. Why do you do this to me? What is so special about me that you haven't given up yet? God, give up on me.

I remember that night when he strangled, stabbed, and left me to bleed. I remember how the knife felt and how cold it was and just ....It was awful. I wanted him to let me die, but he didn't. It wasn't as awful as the void, though. The void was something...unforgettable. The void. Cold. Deep. Nothingness. That was when it really began. "If I'm going to suffer and die, you're coming with me, and the one you love is going to watch while he can do nothing," he whispered in my ear as he tugged on my chain one final time and sent me over the lip down with him. The first thing I felt was the cold. The cold was just a breath chill at first, but worked up soon to a slight shiver, and then to the unbearable feeling that my very bones were winter ice. Had I been standing in front of a fire with my heavy coat on and bundled up, I would feel it still. It was the kind of cold that enters your soul and leaves a deadly, chilling kiss. The next thing I felt was the o...

In classes, when my mind wanders, it always goes to the same tangent: What if someone came in right now and shot me in the head?   It would be easy. In each of my classes I sit in the front corner farthest from the door. A clean shot. An easy enter, and an easy escape. But sometimes I don't think about that; its a good day when I don’t.  Today was different, I was having a good day, and I thought about it. I thought how I wouldn’t mind if it happened, because I’d die when I was in a rare good mood. That was today. I’m stressed, I needed you. I needed something to hold on to and nurture. I needed to lay your head on my chest and pet your hair.  I needed you, but I didn't tell you, because I felt guilty. It was 3 am. I hadn't gotten sleep. I tried pills. I tried wine. Nothing. I was in agony.  I had myself half convinced I should leave you for your own good. All I’m good for is destroying things; all I touch withers. Nothing th...

What does it all mean? Love. The fix. That's all I command of you. Without my precious love, I shall shrivel up and die. My life's blood that I live for. That's why I am here. But you're not. And where are you, When I need my drug the most? Gone. You left. There are other dealers in the streets. In the market for some love of their own. Their smoke might be bitter; It might be as sweet as yours. But they all do the same job, In the end.

Did I? Did not I hear... Something? I prick my ears about the room: Searching out the pin that dropped, As my heart hipped and hopped, Till my anxious breathing stopped, And pricked my ears through the muffled gloom. No, no. Nothing, I insist. Nothing here but doors and walls. No mysterious shades slink through the halls. No, and no, and no again. I heard nothing, I insist. Dare I fake, And continue my pretentious glamoured sleep, Or wake? I burrow deeper into my towered cushions, As if I might find a peaceful sleep Among my favorite plumpéd sheep. Was it? Or was it not it again.... Something? My hound-ish ears up spring again, Upon my nose a phantom stir, My eyes snapping wide this did incur, Out of my false rest it managed to lure, Cursing imaginative ears as my bane. No, no. Nothing, I rehearse. Not a shiver of a painting, Not some long dead ghost in waiting. No, and no, and no again. Nothing for my ears to hear, I rehearse. Do I dare to pee...

         Exploding out, atom by atom breaking away. In that moment, I cease to exist physically. A dark numbness and tingling, keeping me from moving. Its like my body turns to static waves. Screaming in silence. Sorrow, but not sorrow. Sadness with anxiety, tears with agitation. Scratching, scratching, scratching. The sound of static, coming closer, getting louder. Not eating. Picking at my food. Focusing on breathing. Each breath harder, more forced. Sucking in the air, your throat closing up like a straw. Fighting to keep the static away. All concentration aimed at continuing the function of feeble lungs. The heart running with adrenaline. The static moving. Moving to the face, moving to the chest. Taking control and stopping  all feeling, all capability of movement, freezing, stopping. Everything shutting down. Shutting down. Shutting. Down.

I've been thinking so much... Death is too easy, I don't want death.... I thought about slicing my thighs open, vertically starting at the knees to my hips ...just the aesthetic of it, flesh peeling back from the bone....It makes me laugh and feel giddy... Laughing SO MUCH. I'm shaking so much from adrenaline. I want to rip apart something with my sharp fangs, feel the blood gush and burst and pop in my mouth. I want to shred something to ribbons, the way I was. I was shredded into ribbons, and hung up to wither in a cold, numb, unfeeling meat locker, mafia style. My heart is palpating, pounding at my chest. I feel so feverish.. SO MUCH BLOODLUST.... So much pain...