"Voices"
As if it wasn't bad enough before. Not only is my life a wreck, my best friend just tried to kill himself. Thank god I was there. Thank god we could stop him.
The voices in my head don't like it when people get unhappy.
I'm empathetic. Literally. When Dutchy started bleeding, I could feel his pain, and it was mine. Ours. Things don't make sense anymore.
The voices in my head don't like this place.
I'm not only empathetic, I'm manic depressive. And I'm schizophrenic. And I'm obsessive compulsive. And I'm suicidal/bi-polar. And I'm all sorts of undocumented shit. I'm screwed up in the head. My parents abandoned me when I started talking about voices no one else could hear. It isn't my fault, they just. . . happened. I don't know why, they started talking to me one day.
The voices in my head don't like it when I talk about them.
It's astonishing. How many crazy people live here. Jake is obviously a masochist, a cutter. I hate watching in the early, predawn hours when I'm usually the only one awake, until he gets up to cut. I can't sleep. I never sleep. I'm also a sleep-insomniac. And I'm a masochist myself. The voices don't come when I'm cutting. It doesn't hurt. It feels good.
The voices in my head only leave when I sleep and when I cut, and I never sleep.
Jake isn't the only one. Dutchy's got blatant suicidal tendencies, so he's probably clinically depressed or just plain suicidal. Maybe bi-polar. Jesus, I have problems.
The voices in my head don't like you.
The newsies came up with the stupidest nickname for me. It doesn't define me. They don't know me. I mean us.
The voices in my head hate it when I forget about them.
My head hurts. The voices are screaming at me. Look, a knife. . . I feel better now. My head hurts a little though. Maybe if I take off my specs. That's what they call me, you know. Specs. Like I said, it doesn't describe me at all.
The voices in my head hate me.
***
I'm beginning to SUCK at endings. Oh well.
--Chronicles
As if it wasn't bad enough before. Not only is my life a wreck, my best friend just tried to kill himself. Thank god I was there. Thank god we could stop him.
The voices in my head don't like it when people get unhappy.
I'm empathetic. Literally. When Dutchy started bleeding, I could feel his pain, and it was mine. Ours. Things don't make sense anymore.
The voices in my head don't like this place.
I'm not only empathetic, I'm manic depressive. And I'm schizophrenic. And I'm obsessive compulsive. And I'm suicidal/bi-polar. And I'm all sorts of undocumented shit. I'm screwed up in the head. My parents abandoned me when I started talking about voices no one else could hear. It isn't my fault, they just. . . happened. I don't know why, they started talking to me one day.
The voices in my head don't like it when I talk about them.
It's astonishing. How many crazy people live here. Jake is obviously a masochist, a cutter. I hate watching in the early, predawn hours when I'm usually the only one awake, until he gets up to cut. I can't sleep. I never sleep. I'm also a sleep-insomniac. And I'm a masochist myself. The voices don't come when I'm cutting. It doesn't hurt. It feels good.
The voices in my head only leave when I sleep and when I cut, and I never sleep.
Jake isn't the only one. Dutchy's got blatant suicidal tendencies, so he's probably clinically depressed or just plain suicidal. Maybe bi-polar. Jesus, I have problems.
The voices in my head don't like you.
The newsies came up with the stupidest nickname for me. It doesn't define me. They don't know me. I mean us.
The voices in my head hate it when I forget about them.
My head hurts. The voices are screaming at me. Look, a knife. . . I feel better now. My head hurts a little though. Maybe if I take off my specs. That's what they call me, you know. Specs. Like I said, it doesn't describe me at all.
The voices in my head hate me.
***
I'm beginning to SUCK at endings. Oh well.
--Chronicles
