To Whom This May Concern:
So who doesn't understand what I'm trying to say? Already an opening line and it has no relation to what I want to write about. It's currently 10:56 P.M., and I'm supposed to be asleep. But I'm here, typing this up for you all to read and break down tomorrow, or maybe the day after. Do you care? Do you know what this means to me? Tonight's topic in question- Love. What a reaccurance for me. I have so many things to try to put into words, but I can't, because voicing my opinions is social suicide. I realized tonight that the ultimate sacrifice is to kill yourself alone. All alone, so maybe your parents walk in and see you dead. But your friends never find out. Disappearance without a cause to worry. It's a win-win situation. They never cared about you anyway. All of them, you can't win. It's like a trap. Even as you type this you know someone will get offended. And that's not what you want. A never-ending cycle. Break out and beat the system at it's own game. Conquer your own world. Share. Give and take. I have no advice to give the youth of tomorrow, already I feel jaded. I'm living for a future I don't want. I just want to leave, to die. I want to move out of my house and get a job and experience life. I want to die before I get old. So many desires, and so little time. Will I even look back and remember this year? Probably not. Does that mean it shouldn't matter to me now? I guess so. If this is true, then all we live for is the future. What a suicide. Living for something I'll never get to. There'll always be "the future." So many possibilities. Just forget me, I'm leaving you all next year anyway. Let's make this year count. Make me remember what I want to forget. Change my outlook. I call on you all to make this year the best it will ever be. No, let me rephrase. Make it the most memorable. Let me leave with stories, jokes, memories. There's so many things I thought I'd remember forever. I never will again. Love. Love is something I always want to forget. No matter how hard you try, there's always the unquenced feeling you have. You want to be with them, but you're so careful to not say anything that might trigger a dispute. I'd rather be friends than lovers with anyone. I just want someone to call mine. Someone who I know I can call on. Not someone who will use me for my body or my intelligence or my humor, but someone who will appreciate those qualities that I hold dear. I can see that I'll have to wait. It almost makes me wish I was unattractive, since then I knew if someone liked me, it would be for me. Why can't anyone like me for me? Should I just change, and not act the same way. I don't want to see myself crumble like that. But if that's what I need for love, to be loved, to have someone to love, then so be it. So many sacrifices. The ultimate sacrifice is to kill yourself alone. That way, no one will remember you as the girl who killed herself. In fact, they won't even remember you. In a couple years, you'll all be gone anyway. So if I die when I'm 20, how many of you would show up at my funeral. And don't lie. You wouldn't even know I was gone. I don't want a funeral. I don't want to be buried. I want to be dropped into the ocean, still bleeding, my entry wounds still fresh from the bullet that passed through moments before. Can I trust you to take me to the beach and let me die? Will you stop me? Why? I want to die, really. As my friend, you should respect my wishes. Don't think of it as not preventing a suicide, just as witnessing one. And don't worry, in a couple years you won't even remember me anymore. Imagine that: watching someone die and you just forget it. Push it to the back of your fucking mind. The human brain is an amazing thing. So why, if we can forget dead people, move on from friendships, and start new chapters in life, why can't we stop loving someone? It's futile to think that I actually matter. Why set yourself up for a downfall? Over and over and over again. It's amazing that the only thing that keeps me sane is the fact that I actually tell myself "Just remember-no one cares." I have it written down on so many pages in my notebooks. And you know why? Because in the end, that's how it is. We all revert to animalistic beings in the end, and adopt a self-preservation mentality. If only I could die right here, writing to you, because maybe you are the only one who understands. Don't be afraid, I won't bother you anymore, I just thought that you could help me. Help me, please. You're my last hope, for now. As long as I'm stuck here, I will love you. I hate you because I love you. I want to kill you and forget you, but since I can't do that, I want to get rid of myself. I want to kill myself because I can't kill you. If only you were gone, you couldn't keep hurting me like this. It's great how I can't even tell you, since that would implicate so man things. Amazing how no one knows who you are. Amazing how you don't even know who you are. You're so fake, you have no future. There's no life to what you want. I don't understand you, and I love you, and I hate you, and I hate myself. I hate everyone else because I really hate myself. Just pick up the damn phone and listen to your future's call. Hear it hang up, and redial your neighbor's number. Watch the record skip as it hits the wrong groove, and listen. Listen to your life. All we are is a scratch on a CD. A mistake, and error. And until someone comes along and cleans us up, we're going to keep slamming errors into those songs. Worthless, worthless, worthless, worthless. Over and over and over again. I want to die on the beach. The ultimate sacrifice is to kill yourself alone. The ultimate irony is to kill yourself and have everyone find out you did it because they made you hate them, and thus, hate yourself. Blame the world, and even in death, you'll be a success. People will cry for you, and maybe, maybe then they won't forget. Guilty consciences always have a way of popping up at random times. Love, love is so much, yet nothing at the same time. It's no use to even pretend anymore. I am not in love. I do not know the meaning of that term. At this age, does anyone truly? We all think we're living in a movie world, where everything can be categorized. Hurt me, and break my heart even more. One day, maybe I'll forget to care. I'm worthless. And now, my closing line.
DO YOU UNDERSTAND?
share me with the world.dlrow eht htiw em erahs