It makes me wonder what it is that keeps me alive? There used to be token things that made me smile and lift my heart. When I had a bad day and Mr T would leave Ferrero Rochers in my locker, it somehow made all the shit worth it. When Miss Priss and I could relieve the weight of the world by singing loudly and out of tune in the car. When performing the words of Sylvia Plath won me gold medals and made my heart proud with truth.
So what is it now; namely today, that keeps my heart beating? Gone are my days of drama eisteddfods and best friends and chocolate. With years our lives morph into only fragments of our past, but I'm not sure what I have become.
I mask myself to everyone, creating a false me for all to see. But I think I've done it for so long that I've forgotten what's really inside, because it has been buried deep within the layers of years of lies and it's too deep to ever be found.
Is that why I can't find what makes me happy? Why people tolerate my existence but never chase me for company on the weekends? Why I distract myself in any way possible to avoid the loneliness and pain in my heart and boredom that I feel when I just stop? Why I can't stop thinking about dying and letting go of all that is pinning me down, and no matter what I try it seems the only rational escape?
So I ask again; what is it that I cannot live without? Distractions? Noise? The diversions I create for myself to put off any more bloodshed? There is no-one that I couldn't live without. Not because I don't love or care for anyone, but because I won't let myself become dependent on anyone; no matter how close a friend they may become. If I did, and were to lose them I would always blame myself. And I couldn't bear to love someone more than they could ever love me.
And just because it is relevant, here is a Postsecret post-script from www.postsecret.com :
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