_dementias_ (_dementias_) wrote in hypocrysia,
_dementias_
_dementias_
hypocrysia

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Conversation With the self.

[Conversation with myself]

Me: hi me.

Me: I woke up today, I convinced myself everything was this form of undying perfection, that the blood that stains the sheets meant nothing. And I was a fool for it.

Me :Sometimes I think I don't exist, this is just emptiness. Emptiness. emptiness.

Me: Can you not just co exist beside me? Hold onto these little feelings. I'm clinging to this air of nothing, so whatever I clutch, well it's suicidally inane and exposed.

Me: I lack feeling, but I am obsessed with it. Filled to the brim. Suicidal, ana, manical, depressed, torn, broken.

Me : Let us take the blade and bludgeon the other to death, deep mars of isolation. To stab and stab and stab until the hand falls from the fatigue of it.

Me :I'll kill myself, tomorrow. Will you please just stop avoiding it.

Me : Let us take the blade and bludgeon the other to death, deep mars of isolation. To stab and stab and stab until the hand falls from the fatigue of it.

Me : I don't have anything anymore.

Me: Let us take the blade and bludgeon the other to death, deep mars of isolation. To stab and stab and stab until the hand falls from the fatigue of it.
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