tears-in-heaven
06-24-2006, 11:49 PM
Okay, so you're probably going to think you're insane when you read this... but that's okay I guess, it's very random but I love it because it's straight from the heart and it wasn't pre-meditated.. so, what do you guys think about it? Mind you, the formatting is screwy, because it was all cool on my word processor, I'm just too lazy to fix it. Oh well...
And she lies.
If she told them the truth, it wouldn’t be the same. It would be better but not the same. In her twisted mind she likes to suffer, she wants to be the victim, she wants to cry. And it’s not for the attention, I tell you that. She hates the attention. But lying makes it more real, to them and to her. It isn’t a full-blown lie. Just exaggerated truth so that reality is easier to accept, after all she doesn’t have it all that bad. Or so she wants to say.
She hates her life.
Maybe she really isn’t lying to anyone but herself. Maybe what seems absurd to her, is real. She can’t believe the words that come out of her mouth but all she does is recall happening.
Nobody ever told her life would be easy, she never told anyone her life was easy. She can open up to a stranger but those up close are the hardest. Most don’t know. She wishes she could tell them the truth, clean her slate and start over fresh. But how can you start over fresh when the scars are permanent? Permanent damage to a temporary problem. That’s what the counsellor said. But what if the problem wasn’t temporary and it was the damage that was? Scars fade with time but the memories always remain. She will probably remember spoken words years from now but by then, she won’t have the physical affirmation that she lied.
She lied.
No perfect family, no wonderful Brady Bunch family.
She lied.
And the permanent problem only caused temporary damage. Because she can’t confront, can’t affront. She doesn’t want to hurt and doesn’t want to please.
She just wants to be and be herself.
No one should suffer and no one should take advantage.
She always lies. [/I]
And she might have nobody.
But to her it should seem like she has it all, or so she’s told. They all want to be like her even the ones that don’t want to be like themselves. And that’s what she doesn’t get. If they can’t accept themselves, how can they accept someone else. Observe and learn, that’s how she goes. She could sit and watch life pass her by if she didn’t wake up and try to accomplish and succeed.
Because that is what they want. They all want her to be what they weren’t, to accomplish what they couldn’t.
She could ramble.
She will ramble.
Because you can’t stop her and she can’t change what she forever remains.
She is a liar.
She lies through her paper and twists the truth. She bleeds on her paper, her blood in the ink. Her blood from her fingertips, from her brain to the tips. Her writing is her mind. It is her feelings. Even her journal can’t touch it. She writes and doesn’t feel the need to impress even herself. She just writes.
So she’s good.
Does she care? Maybe.
But all she does is write her mind.
She writes what she wishes was her, what will never be her, what she was and what she is.
She writes.
And she lies.
She can write and they can listen. Or read. Or not read. She doesn’t care because she writes and she lies.
It’s better than the permanent problem with the temporary damage.
Though she likes that temporary damage, it reminds her of the mistakes and to never do it again. Never. But she lies. She knows she won’t be able to keep that promise, even to herself. She is going to slip and there’s no hope.
More temporary damage.
More and more.
And she lies.
Because she will try to stop.
For him.
Because she loves him and she doesn’t know why. And this time she doesn’t lie.
No.
Because she loves him and love cannot be a lie when it is meant. She has lied in love before but not this time and she knows it.
He shouldn’t hurt because of her. He should be happy and she should be happy and there should be no worries and everything should be fine. But it isn’t and there’s war and blood and tears and fears and death.
Death.
Til death do us part and she knows that. Because he will forever be in her heart, she will love him until the end of time because she cannot lie to him.
It is a love story.
Because she loves him and he loves her.
She thinks.
No.
She knows.
So this is their love story. Confusion. Because they are both confused in a certain way. Confused but together and dancing. But they don’t dance. But they do. She’s supposed to be that skinny ballerina. She is following in her mother’s footsteps. She always follows the footsteps.
And lies. Because she never really liked it. Until now because she can express herself.
Like this.
She is saying herself. And this is babble that she loves. Just like she loves him. And she can’t lie about that. Ever.
She lied many times.
And she lies.
If she told them the truth, it wouldn’t be the same. It would be better but not the same. In her twisted mind she likes to suffer, she wants to be the victim, she wants to cry. And it’s not for the attention, I tell you that. She hates the attention. But lying makes it more real, to them and to her. It isn’t a full-blown lie. Just exaggerated truth so that reality is easier to accept, after all she doesn’t have it all that bad. Or so she wants to say.
She hates her life.
Maybe she really isn’t lying to anyone but herself. Maybe what seems absurd to her, is real. She can’t believe the words that come out of her mouth but all she does is recall happening.
Nobody ever told her life would be easy, she never told anyone her life was easy. She can open up to a stranger but those up close are the hardest. Most don’t know. She wishes she could tell them the truth, clean her slate and start over fresh. But how can you start over fresh when the scars are permanent? Permanent damage to a temporary problem. That’s what the counsellor said. But what if the problem wasn’t temporary and it was the damage that was? Scars fade with time but the memories always remain. She will probably remember spoken words years from now but by then, she won’t have the physical affirmation that she lied.
She lied.
No perfect family, no wonderful Brady Bunch family.
She lied.
And the permanent problem only caused temporary damage. Because she can’t confront, can’t affront. She doesn’t want to hurt and doesn’t want to please.
She just wants to be and be herself.
No one should suffer and no one should take advantage.
She always lies. [/I]
And she might have nobody.
But to her it should seem like she has it all, or so she’s told. They all want to be like her even the ones that don’t want to be like themselves. And that’s what she doesn’t get. If they can’t accept themselves, how can they accept someone else. Observe and learn, that’s how she goes. She could sit and watch life pass her by if she didn’t wake up and try to accomplish and succeed.
Because that is what they want. They all want her to be what they weren’t, to accomplish what they couldn’t.
She could ramble.
She will ramble.
Because you can’t stop her and she can’t change what she forever remains.
She is a liar.
She lies through her paper and twists the truth. She bleeds on her paper, her blood in the ink. Her blood from her fingertips, from her brain to the tips. Her writing is her mind. It is her feelings. Even her journal can’t touch it. She writes and doesn’t feel the need to impress even herself. She just writes.
So she’s good.
Does she care? Maybe.
But all she does is write her mind.
She writes what she wishes was her, what will never be her, what she was and what she is.
She writes.
And she lies.
She can write and they can listen. Or read. Or not read. She doesn’t care because she writes and she lies.
It’s better than the permanent problem with the temporary damage.
Though she likes that temporary damage, it reminds her of the mistakes and to never do it again. Never. But she lies. She knows she won’t be able to keep that promise, even to herself. She is going to slip and there’s no hope.
More temporary damage.
More and more.
And she lies.
Because she will try to stop.
For him.
Because she loves him and she doesn’t know why. And this time she doesn’t lie.
No.
Because she loves him and love cannot be a lie when it is meant. She has lied in love before but not this time and she knows it.
He shouldn’t hurt because of her. He should be happy and she should be happy and there should be no worries and everything should be fine. But it isn’t and there’s war and blood and tears and fears and death.
Death.
Til death do us part and she knows that. Because he will forever be in her heart, she will love him until the end of time because she cannot lie to him.
It is a love story.
Because she loves him and he loves her.
She thinks.
No.
She knows.
So this is their love story. Confusion. Because they are both confused in a certain way. Confused but together and dancing. But they don’t dance. But they do. She’s supposed to be that skinny ballerina. She is following in her mother’s footsteps. She always follows the footsteps.
And lies. Because she never really liked it. Until now because she can express herself.
Like this.
She is saying herself. And this is babble that she loves. Just like she loves him. And she can’t lie about that. Ever.
She lied many times.