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Fragmented Self who wanders through life like a dreamer and wades through the river of dreams as though it were the only truth left in this world
This Is WAR
This Is War and I am its prize
I am its soldier, worn and tired,
gasping to take another step forward
so that I may grasp towards the end.
I am the deceitful promise
that lured you into battle
then slit your throat while you were sleeping.
The air raids and marching soldiers
are all my doing.
The blood curdling cries from deep within your stomach
are only the beginning of this pain I intend to trek.
You've only caught a glimpse by hearing it from me
and perhaps the virus shall spread from my lips
and engulf you whole too
for THIS is WAR
and no one is exempt from the pain.

Erm owo My dad and I went out to dinner and I got sick again. Don't you dare lecture me on this because I know I have a problem. People telling me to eat does not change the fact that I KNOW I NEED to eat and I KNOW that I've done WRONG. So don't tell me I've been bad. I ******** HATE when people tell me that I need to eat or that I haven't been eating right. Well, ******** YOU! And it's not like I'm angry at anyone, I'm just suck of their voices echoing. I can hear them even when they don't say anything. I've got problems. Whatever. I didn't have enough money for about two weeks to AFFORD food so I got soda, which gives me calories to burn. I at least was giving my body SOMETHING. I had crap to make but because I was online so long, for various reasons, I never had the will or strength to make stuff. Problem is, I don't enjoy food anymore. Food, desserts, peppermint bark, it's all ... blah. I keep thinking "YOU'RE GONNA GET FAT!" And you must be laughing or gawking at this cause I'm not fat. I'm not really close to being fat or even bad looking. I'm actually quite pretty but... I dunno... I can't say it and I won't. Psh. I've lost all my feelings from when I started writing this. Don't take me too seriously, I mean really... I'm just ranting to get out my feelings and energy so I can sleep. Journaling and drawing exhaust me because... I'm talking. When I don't talk or exercise my voice, my energy is off the walls.





 
 
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