Sever my ties with the emotional consequences of my actions. Sever myself from any emotion. This hurts so much. Breathing in my bleeding words, cut up and fucked up by my broken promises. And I never meant to be the derelict I am now. I never meant to tell you all those lies. I would have rather lived with the jagged edges of my soul then to have numbed the pain and hurt you more. So many addictions and afflictions they haven't found a cure for yet. So many addictions and afflictions that keep haunting me. I want a bottle of mercy and a syringe of it doesn't matter that much. Been dying since I was 13. I'll be dying until the world decides I can give up and quit. I don't want to care anymore. Not about anything. Not about you. Then it wouldn't matter that I lied.
(Written May 27, 2001, I don't remember what about, but probably some relationship gone bad or not gone anywhere at all.)
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