surrealchereal My friend, I don't know him,
yet I feel him.
I read his words and feel his emotions,
this is new, we are connected.
He was my son or lover before,
never father.
I have felt him sinking the last week or so,
he's hurting.
I know I can't help or reach.
I hold my breath waiting,
for him to resurface, gasping for life.
Talk to me, you're hurting,
don't hurt me.
tears in the night I know that you are hurting. i want to know why. i want to fix it so you can be happy. so you can see the people who love you. so you can see me. I know that you know about them but get over it. it is not the last thing. open your eyes to those who love you 010621
surreal hurting? It must be my nature wouldn't you say?
It seems that so many of us are this way.
the sad thing, and this is based on myself,
I can't give the kindness most strangers would give to my heart.

For I beat and sabotage only one soul.
My own.
Self mutilation, most find just the word so repulsive.
Yet what a hypocrite am I, for I do it to my psyche, do it to my heart.
Oh you'll never know it, never see the scars.
But I see them every time I look into the mirror, for the damage reaches far.
I wish I could stop.
I wish I could stop.
I wish I could stop.
yummyC what they don't know
can't hurt them.

i'd just like to keep all the pain to myself.
Sonya the sullen feline like never before and I don't want to blame you for this. I have no regrets, and only wish that things didn't have to turn out this way. I fear this pain will become even more unbearable and soon I will give up and disappear from this world forever... 011014
Invisible Butterfly i completely agree with yah sonya 020524
Sailor Jupiter My ulcers naw at my insides
I feel a burning twisting pain
my mind spins at 80 mph
with fear b/c I know
bad dreams await me
I think the only way
to kill them
is to kill myself
But maybe I can learn to live w/them
oh but I've tried
and they make me so sick and tired
I even hurt in my unconcious
me every time she crys I want to scream at her. tell her to shut up. That everyone loves her and she is so blind. I want to hold her and hug her and tell her the truth. I want to brush away her tears. I want to leave her behind because I can't take it. we're both blind and sore. 021214
poeticmisfit Everyones hurting...

I sit here and see all the people around me. Their talking, some of them are smiling, some of them are laughing, while others are just staring. I don't see one face that looks real. All I can see is the fake emotions they try to play up so that no one knows whats inside. But I know...I know that they feel it too. They feel the hurt, the confusion, the pain. I know they do, they have too. I know they go home, and then their hit with it all. The flood of emotions comes in as they hear the voices of their parents and the accusations they fire at them. They feel the anger, the dissaproval. Streams of curses and questions fall out of the peoples mouths, and all they can do is listen. They run upstairs and lock their door. They can't look into their eyes anymore. And so they leave them. And when their alone in their room, they fall apart. They break open, just like everyone does. They have to, I know they do. Maybe they cry, maybe they just sit there and stare at the window, maybe they whisper words to themselves to try and block out the sounds from downstairs. I think that some of them even bleed...just to feel it, or just to know that it's ok to hurt like that. They try and shut the whole world out, because they can see; they can see that it's all so pointless and all so hopeless. Maybe they wrie things down, trying to make sense of anything, maybe they can't write because they can't even move because it hurts so bad. But I know they feel it.
And then some of them hate feeling it. They hate not being able to deal with it, so they try so hard to numb it. They go out and they pretend to be okay. The fake feelings they get from the smoke and from the helps them to forget. Because I know they want so bad to forget too, they want to not have to feel it at all. But when they go back to their boxes, the cages again, I know that it all crashes down. It hurts so bad, and they feel it. They try to sleep, try to push it out of their minds, but all they can do is stare up into the dark ceiling and hear it creep into their souls and insides. They feel like their being eaten alive. And they feel so alone...'no one' they think...' no one udnerstands.' But I know that everyone does. Everyone feels this too, they all feel the violence, the unsafety of themselves, the frustration of knowing that they can never go back to the way things were. They feel so unloved, and I know they would give almost anything just to feel worth something again. They would give anything to bring back the sun, to erase the scars that seem to never fade. To make life worth living again. To feel beautiful, to feel loved. Because I know that they want to die too. I know they feel it, I just know they do.
But they still come here, because they have too. And their so afriad to let everyone else know how they feel. They have to be so fake, just to protect what they have left. Just to hide the stupid tears they wish would never have to come. But I know it's fake. I know that they feel it too...and no one can make it better. No one can save them.
So I sit and watch as them continue with the act, the play of life. And I wonder if anyone else knows that everyone feels like they do. They have to too, they have to because I know that I can't be alone. I can't be alone like this...I just can't.
phil The only person feeling hurt is yourself, nothing changes unless you do.
Are you a scarecrow, did you fight the woogley phantoms, are you going to be supernatural?

You'll probably break laws and steal. And never blame anything on yourself until you are all that's left, alone, in that cell.
Creepy, hu?

Each time I took a timid step into that light, another piece of my defense fell apart. Until I got close enough to realize that in the end we are all naked, desperate, raped little

I faced my problems today, I dreamed that by telling the truth completely that everything would come out good.
I couldn't do it, and is it my fault?

Someone always seems to be ready to spill your glass for you, and teach you the lessons you are most scared to learn. So I came to a conclusion.
A cold and empty thought that drains down into the pit of my stomach.

a) hate it all, to accept no charity, and have no responsibility.

b) To desire nothing, yet completely fullfill one's desires.

basically step by step fall, or take a running leap all the way over.

I chose to stop dead in my tracks, whoever was on that other side was certainly not my friend.

Not born by any fault of our own, but gifted by some empty enigma.
phil sort of an anchor, but a mocked anchor. 030416
god result of being under a landing moose 030417
Sparticus me. you. everywhere

i dont know why

i cant sleep. cant dream. cant go. cant eat. cant think. but i do. the sun will still rise tomorrow morning, with a new light to shine on a new me that i found in the hills of italy

caught between awake and asleep

if i could just see you alone, talk to you, hold_your_hand, this would all get better. this i know

but you arent ready. ok. thats fine. i will never, ever let myself hurt you. dont want to hurt, never have, not control or save (why do you say these things that tear me in two, why the hurt???) no never those things never. never will. i can wait. you are worth the wait. always. when you are ready, i am here

i will always be here for you. wish you could talk to me about the hurt, like always, but since i am the cause, i know not what to do and i am spilt_assunder

but please, while we wait -- dont forget me. or us. or what we have together

because we still have it. pure. i love you. you love me (?). why complicate. . .

our love was comfortable
and so broken in
shes perfect, so flawless
i want her back

but have i lost you? no. somewhere inside, i think not

but for now, no more hurting. for now and ever, i give you love, not hurt

god you nutters 050129
hyena sometimes i can lift out of it,
but it's like an ostrich attemptin flight
and the bruise collection is breaking me.
factory reject We are all in love with hurting ourselves...
one way, form, or another... we all slowly kill ourselves with self-devised forms of torture.
Lisa I would love to be outside, and if possible, not alone. 060501
*Amy* something is missing... 060501
what's it to you?
who go