| Noose... |
How did it feel? How was it to see your puppet dance? What was it like to finally have it to play with all you liked?
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I want to know. How did it feel?
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Sometimes the things we want are the last things we need. And sometimes I fucking hate you. Sometimes I want to punch a screwdriver in your throat and kick you in the teeth. And sometimes, I just want you to go away.
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I see so clearly, so plainly, so sadly, that you were never what I wanted. You never had it, and if you did, you wouldn't have given it to me anyway. I think you don't deserve to fuck it up. I think you need to get out, and I think you need to keep walking and don't try turning around.
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You aren't welcome anymore.
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This fragile thing I call myself just can't take it. I need something to get a grip on, something to sink my claws into and never let go.
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I need to crawl out of this darkness, this hole, this whatever the fuck it is that keeps me from... I don't know what the fuck it keeps me from, but I know that it holds me back. I know I need to get this out of me. I want to scream right in your fucking ears, scream until they bleed. And you aren't allowed to cry. I won't believe your tears anyway...
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Get me out of here...
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Dear Diary,
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I am lost...