Thoughts... Are like paper, really. They come and go as they rip through my mind, and they seem so fragile as they do so. I don't understand. It's as if I've lost my will to think things through. Perhaps, I'm too smart for my own damn good. Or... Maybe I think too much...? Preposterous. It's obscene to even put out that sort of note. But... I cannot close my eyes. I am tired, and I feel weak, but... My mind will not allow my eyes to rest. The thing I value most lies only on the couch: Sleep. On the couch, because I have no bed. It's been stolen from me and it's ridden with Sex. I cannot take it back. I will not take it back. I do NOT want to take back.
It's almost hard to believe that this pack of cigarettes I posess was full, not even 5 hours ago. I watch the smoke build as I clutter the ashtray with their remains, and it becomes cloudy in the room. It resembles my vision. It still resembles the vision I remember ever so clearly. It was the day I cried for hours reading my own writings, not realizing how numb to everything I once was. Am I slipping back into those feelings? Am I really as happy now, as I lead on? No, I do not feel happy at this moment in time, but happiness seems to be a fragile thing. Much like my paper-like thoughts... Rip... Rip... I can almost hear them as they fly past. Rip...
Life itself has gained back some of it's luster. My previous writing, Eyeless, has something to do with it. Life is a lie, love is a lie. The person in that story (Maybe it was me...?) wants to be lied to. The person in that story wants to be loved, so life can gain again it's FULL luster. The illusion of love seems welcoming, but what is the point in feeling false love, when you KNOW for a FACT that it is indeed false love? Why sit on Pinnochio's nose and scream, 'LIE TO ME, PINNOCHIO LIE!'? No point in it what-so-ever. There is no point in a wooden rod to be rammed into you, and there is no point in being lied to. Love is false unless you really believe in it. I do, but sometimes... I want to hold my breath, and tell it to just leave me fucking be. I've been lied to enough.
Of course, these are just depressing thoughts, nothing more, nothing less. I was faced tonight in explaining my prior suicide attempts that took place 2 years ago. I tried 6 times in one year, and obviously, since I am here, you may have guessed I didn't succeed. I find myself happy I didn't succeed, for I shared my life events with a truely lovely person tonight. Not just a lovely person... A beautiful person. I am happy I had to face those facts of my prior life, because it had haunted me for 2 years, and I can finally see that life is only a passing moment. Don't spend it trying to commit suicide. It isn't worth it. Though it may feel that way sometimes, it isn't at all the way to go about being happy once and for all.
It's taken me a while to see the more splendored beauty in life. With the promise of love and someone to hold, it makes the out look better, and it is no longer clouded by tears. Maybe I will not get to hold the person that I long to hold at this very moment, but maybe someday... I'll get to hold SOMEONE atleast. Maybe I'll get to smile while I watch my lover sleep, and think to myself, 'I love this person to death'. This thought does make me smile, but it quickly fades... For I am scared to death that loving someone to death may be a fleeting thing... Much like the thoughts that keep ripping through my mind. There they go again. Tiredness is a thought-thief.
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