I want to scream.

I want to let everything out,
Everything that I've been keeping locked inside,
Everything that I've been hiding from the eyes of society and public,
Just to spite them.
Just to turn them all away from me again.

I need to feel.

But, feeling is bad.
I don't like the feelings.
And, by the way it comprehended, they never liked me.
So, I'll play by it's sick, twisted rules,
That always locked me in this intoxicating cage of denial.
With all of the spoiling narcotics that have always and never been my friends.

I like it better when I don't feel these emotions.
Because, then, I don't have to worry about how I'll act,
Or, what I'll do or say or any of the ridiculous things that humans react to things with.
Just like an idiot.
A raging, confused, stupid idiot.
But, aren't we all idiots, no matter what on earth we do?
God, I don't want to believe that.
But, it's the truth, and I know it.

I want so many things to happen,
But, I'm so scared that they never, ever will.
I want to be something,
But, I'm holding myself back,
And I know it.
But, I can't help it.
I'm only a sick, disgusting human.
That's all I'll ever be.
And it kills me.

Narcotics truly are amazing.
All they've ever done is simply everything.
They help, they hurt, they cure, they kill...
And they make it better.
But, god, I know it's just making it worse.
I'm sorry for hurting everyone.
I really am.

If there was just one thing in the world that I could do before I died,
It would be to make a difference.
A difference that would change the world,
Forever and ever and ever.
I pray to any divinity that I can do that.
Just once.
Just once and it would last forever.
That would be what I wished for with my last, dying breath.
And I swear all of you would regret it for eternity.

I'd take it all back if I could.
I swear I would, just to make you smile,
If it would make you smile one time,
I would destroy everything I've ever stood for.
I'd end it all, and take everyone with me.
The world is my own and I can end it all with one try.
Just one.

"Take your hatred out on me,
Make your victim my head,
You never ever believed in me,
I am your tourniquet."

I would love to say thank-you, for everything you've ever done.
Your so inspiring to even think of.
Your voice, your appearance, your difference...
It's captivating.
And I want it for myself.
But, I know that I can never have it.
It's not mine to have.
It's for everyone to have a shot at but me.
And it's not fair.
But, I blew my chance.
Now, I wonder if the smoke will ever clear,
And the scenery will ever be the same again.
I pray that it will.
Maybe one day.

I want to say things no one has said before,
Things that will enrage and disturb you.
I want to make you scream things,
Things that you never thought that you were ever capable of even thinking.
I want to prove that your just as sick as I am,
Just as disgusting and demented on the inside.
After all, we all have secrets.
We all have our little skeletons that mother just couldn't know of.
Therefore, she couldn't clean them out of our closet.
Now, we're all doomed, because we're all sick.
Just like me.
Your sick.

These people are the most gorgeous things that I have ever seen in my life.
And, I want to destroy them for it.
I want to end their life so swiftly,
Yet so painfully,
That they never see it coming.
But, at the same time, I want them to cower in fear below me.
I want to mutilate them,
Sabotage, and discriminate against everything they ever stood for and about.
Just so they will know what it's like.
But, they could never know what it's like.
Not to be me.

I've done so many things in my life, in such short time.
I've killed, I've created, I've loved, I've hated.
It all just doesn't seem possible to do so many things that contradict.
Not like this.
It shouldn't have happened at all.
But, it looks like it did.
And I'm responsible.
Only me.
And, no matter how much I want out of the blame,
No matter how much I try to find an escape,
I've accepted, and hated, and loved the fact that I know that their isn't one.
People say that there's always hope.
But there is none for an escape of this Hell.

Pleasure always bothered me.
From the very first time that I felt it,
Something just didn't seem right.
It scared me.
It didn't seem natural.
It didn't fit in place with my collections.
I never could put my trembling finger on it.
But, I wanted it as much as I hated it,
In conclusion, I would always make it go away.
Every type of pleasure.
Pain just seemed more natural, more alluring.
At least... it always has to me.
But no one else is me.
So, I guess no one else understands.

God is just a little girl.
He's a little girl, with a prized toy doll collection,
And he's prideful and greedy of them.
We're the dolls.
He covets us.
He does every sin imaginable to us.
And Lucifer is like the little brother,
The little brother that just wants to experiment with the toys,
Just to see why his sister loves them so.
So, he plays with us.
When he plays with us, it's when we really live, really have fun.
But, then God gets mad, and hurts Lucifer for it,
Thus, punishing us for playing house with someone other than himself.
He's greedy, prideful, lustful, gluttonous, spiteful, lazy...
And I hate him.
I'd kill him if I only could.

The sounds are so amazing.
So beautiful.
Like a train wreck, perfectly in tune with nature.
So destructive... but so perfectly productive.
I'd do anything to make sounds like that.
Maybe I will one day.
That is, if I don't stop myself.
Maybe I could be just like that, one day.
One day.

It all just sums up so simply, it makes me sick.
Everything that a person feels shouldn't be able to be stated so easily,
Or, written down so quickly.
But, they can be.
And, it doesn't make you feel any better.
Not at all.
I guess it never will.
And that's something that I'll have to grow to accept.
If, that is, I ever can accept that fact,
Much less, make myself believe such an awful truth.
Because, like I said, I'm human,
And humans lie to themselves every single day.
It never fails.
What's worst about it, is when you tell people everything,
Everything that you have ever thought,
Everything that you have ever loved, cared about, hated, or rejected,
They just talk it over like nothing.
Maybe that's because feelings and emotions are nothing.
Their just figments of human imagination.
But, god, they seem so real.
I would do anything to feel one perfect way forever,
Or, anything to never feel anything again.
But, I know that I will.
And, that's something that I will have to live with until I die,
Or, maybe even after then.
I guess we'll never really know in life,
And that's where faith and superstitious believes come in.
But, god's just a girl.
And we're just his dolls.