My life is prefaced with broken drunken promises. Each time I speak I just write more lies. Or make more promises that I can never keep. And with each line spoken in this way the void becomes clearer. There are parts of my life filled in with black holes. And cliché is the only word to describe the mistake I have become. I collect damaged people and the ones closest to me I only damage further. I can't write anymore because I've become some fragile piece and anytime I admit something to myself the tears that have been behind my eyes all along spill over. The only person that can make me cry is myself because I don't care about anyone else. And every time I say 'I love you' it's a lie. My tearful apologies are just me begging you not to leave me alone with my own self deprecating thoughts. When I'm the most truthful is when I'm the most alone. The more people throw me away the more I have to rely on my own devices. And external stimulus is all that can make me happy. I'm chilled when I'm not filled up with the warmth of liquor and I shiver and twitch at the thought of inhaling some delicious deviant drug into my long deceased lungs. Each day turns dark and each night I watch the sunrise. I can feel the blood crawling in my veins looking for any escape from me and I willingly give it many. Where I got the idea that I was worth something to the world I can't even fathom. Any of my traits in a different stable person would be wonderful but the way they have all conjoined in me is vile. I am disgusting, I am immoral, I am a generally bad person. But these are all societal norms these are all dictated by someone who isn't me. And I only listen to my own common law. I wish I could marry sentences because I can't nurture another human being. The wounds to my heart could be metaphorical but they're not. I've made sure that there is actually physical damage to match the constantly used words "broken heart". My tears well up with empathy and sullenness at not being able to express how I truly feel. "I understand" has stopped meaning anything. I want the world to be mute so when I say something to someone they won't have heard it hundreds of times before. I want to be new; I want to be exciting, I never want to wear off. I think of myself as a recreational drug but there's always the comedown and my novelty always wears off. I'm not as enticing as I like to think. I have no hold on any one person, any thing or reality. I live in a world of celebrity that I beg for. I need the world to love me so I can hate them. I need people to worship me so when they vie for my attention I can scorn them. I like being able to hate people and my hate and growing animosity just fuel my decaying personality. Seeing all these words laid out as if they actually mean anything almost makes me laugh. Is this what I am? If someone read this would they finally know me? I can only survive if I keep myself drugged enough that I don't think. I can only survive if I keep lying to myself. The promises I break most often are the ones I make to myself in whispered moments at early hours. I'm not real. This phrase will not leave my head. I feel emotions over and over but only on the most basic level. I don't know if I'm actually feeling anything or if it's just part of my charade. I am trash. This fact cannot be debated. I've had a pulse for seventeen years now and at most I can say I've been breathing about ninety-nine percent of that time. But that should never be mistaken for living. I beg other people to hurt me to make up for whatever I've done to them. Or more so I just have stories to tell and bruises to show and scars with stories attached. The people I need the most I push the farthest away because it's impossible for me to believe that anyone other than me can put up with me. I don't get to know people because once I do it makes it harder to be horrible to them. It makes it harder to tear them apart. I could be a brilliant psychoanalyst but I'd be too tempted to rip people's minds to shreds. The words people say and the conversations about me that take place out of my ear shot don't hurt. The only thing about threats and assertions that hurts is that the people saying them aren't obsessed with me. This is all that pains me. As I think about the meaninglessness of all my words the meaninglessness of my actions makes its presence known. I've breezed through life too quickly. If there was a checklist I'm sure I've hit most with a strong 'x'. Thinking about having nothing ahead of me and no new experiences or surprises makes all those nights and nameless faces turn into regrets. And I wonder how I can ever show anyone I truly care about them; I have nothing left to give. Whatever I was at the passing points in my life is so far gone. I can only relate to people in drugs. The way I've learned to show affection is by wanting to do lines with someone. When I share my drugs it's as if I'm giving whatever love it is that they've taken over. 'I love you' you should always be punctuated by a sniff and a sigh. All my friendships are always sexual. I can't show affection in any way but physical. And even if I actually cared my kisses are just another step in a long line of meaningless impromptu make out sessions. Does the meaninglessness of my actions, words and relationships mean that my life is just meaningless? What will give it meaning? I need something else to depend on me. I have this intense need to produce life but having a child at my age and in my mind set is ridiculous. I need people to rely on me even though I lack the ability to nurture them and most of all show them I love them. I only revolve around me except for when I find that one person that I give everything for and everything to. I'd slice myself to pieces for the people I attach myself to. All I want is someone who won't take advantage of my dependency. I have two people living inside of me. The one that follows societal conventions and tries to feel and act how she's supposed to and a second that has no morals and no emotions. Flat affect. Emotionally distant. It's as if I look to others for how to feel because I have no reactions to anything. I don't feel on the same level as a normal person. My emotions are numbed and muted. If it's the drugs that have made them this way I'll never know. I have no recollection of the time before. Protection is the only word that echoes in my mind and the need for it is all that drives me. I fall in love with people strong enough to keep me safe. I'm an original and an illusion. I will push you away just to prove that I don't love you. I will draw attention to myself with less is more. My thoughts are all animalistic. I'm a lethal blend of natural beauty and drug induced decay. I like my coffee with cream and sugar because it reminds me of liquor. Cool, fresh flavor with a sharp blade hidden inside. I don't like surprises. Occasionally I wonder about the future. Nothing in this life of decadence and self destruction can possibly end well. But there is always a part of me that wonders why I even care how it ends. I've done more things than most people will do within the course of a seventy something year life in this small spread of seventeen years. I've experienced things that most people will die without ever experiencing. If phrased right what I'm saying sounds positive, good, like something I should be proud of and relish in. But there are things that you can put yourself through that people shouldn't have to see. There are things in this life that are hidden from the main stream view for a reason. I don't regret what I've done or what I've experienced but I don't enjoy it either. It's not a badge of honor or something I feel I should be proud of. I'd never go on Oprah or write a memoir, there's nothing interesting about rich kids that whine too much. If I did that I'd be giving into everything I hate, I'd be becoming the very people that I loathe.
I guess that this intensely militant opinion towards those that "whine" is what leads to many of my potential problems. Supposedly I'm too closed off, supposedly I don't share enough. Supposedly, fuck you. And there comes up yet another emotion I'm known for. Anger. Intense but closely controlled anger that is normally more internally directed than anything else. I loathe medications but yet and still I still numb myself from what I feel. My drugs, though, don't come in pretty orange bottles. They come in little blue baggies. They're not prescribed; no doctor has ever diagnosed me. I don't wash them down with water or vodka; they just disappear up my nose. But I think its better that way. I like it better this way. I'm in control, I own myself. I don't have to admit volumes to some old perverted shrink; I only have to admit that I'm hurting to myself. And bandage it away. I kind of want to die. Well no. I don't want to die. I just want to experience death and wake up the next morning and go "Shit I have a nasty ass hang over". At least it'd be something different to break up the monotony, monogamy. Love is constantly changing. Sometimes it's good and sometimes it's bad. It's inconsistent. It's always changing, always morphing. Drugs though, drugs are consistent. They're always there. No, scratch that addiction is consistent. It is the only thing that you know will still be there when you wake up. Everything else could disappear from your life but you'll always have addiction. At least I know that every morning when I wake up I'll need to score. At least I'll have that ritual. At least that will always be there for me. Unlike so many others. And those are my excuses. That's what I use to justify selling my soul for any substance I can find. I don't have a particular drug problem, I just have general problem with all substances equally. I'm not going to blame the drugs for ruining my life. They've only ever done what I wanted them to do. I blame the people in my life who have made it so unbearable that I needed the drugs for solace. After all, I can never blame myself. I didn't ask for this life. I didn't ask to be here and so logic always comes back to blaming your parents. And I do. My life up until this point was a very dull collection of false but intense interpersonal relationships. Nothing interesting and no people worth spending time with. There is a complete lack of intelligence in this world. And people wonder why or doubt that I hate everyone? Have you looked at world lately? I continually contemplate how I became this fucked up, for lack of a better word, what in my life has been so horrible that I morphed into this? A splendid blend of sociopath like behaviors and guilt. I keep coming back to Frances' death. That has to be it. That has to be what set it all into motion. But I never think about it and it hardly effects me on a conscious level. Could it be working wonders underneath my thoughts? My constantly fluctuating opinions of others terrify me. My love only lasts for a night. Because of this I hurt people when I hate them and when I start to love them again my guilt is overwhelming. All I really want to do is self destroy. Give me anything to gouge myself with. I'll numb my brain with drugs, decay my body with sex, drown my liver in vodka and scar myself with razorblades. Anything just to not be me. I don't know what it was in my life that made it horrible enough for me to feel this way. I think part of this path is that I'm trying to be given an excuse to feel so awful. I think I just put myself in situations that something tragic could happen in because I want something to bitch about. I need a reason to want to completely destroy myself beyond recognition and there are no preexisting reasons in my life. I think I'm looking for someone to save me. No matter how vehemently I claim that I don't want people's help or sympathy I think that's what I want the most. I want a suitable hero for myself. And until now the only people who've cared haven't been up to par. I wasn't born bad. No one is. Circumstance is what turns us into what we are. The past dictates who we become, not some soul or spirit. Looking back it's so obvious why I'm the way I am. The damage that other people do stays with you indefinitely. People leave the worst scars on portions of life. Entire memories have to be erased just to be able to think about life because it involves a single person that did some massive amount of damage. I believe that I have every right to blame other people for the things I've done, and the things I will do. It's not my fault, I didn't ask for this life and I didn't ask for the people that have damaged me. And that's the antisocial side of me talking. This will never end. I've become infatuated with the idea of hanging myself. Suicide has found its way into my brain and imbedded itself in my thoughts. All I want is a gun so I can put a bullet in these thoughts. I have flexible morals. I'm narcissistic, hypocritical, and pompous. I have a sick sense of humor and a twisted idea of fun. I'm highly sadistic; I take great joy in the misery, suffering and ill fortune of others. I am a drunken mess. I will tell you that I love you one minute but grind how useless you are into your psyche for the next three. I'm perverse, angry and prone to violent outbursts. I will choose drugs over you every time. I'm self deprecating, hostile, and destructive (to myself and all those around me). There is nothing you can say or do to minimize my monotonous angst. I will steal your boyfriend and your girlfriend. I will take over your life and become your best friend only to throw you away. I will make your friends hate you. I will give you diseases I never had. I will turn you into a devil (just like me). I will destroy your life. I'll leave scars.
Yet and still; people are lining up to be my latest victim.