she's hiding somewhere around the corner of nowhere

Dear Amanda,

i have a confession; i secretly want to wrap chains around my arms and legs and neck and hands and feet. i want to wrap it so tightly that everything will just go numb. then i want to walk around without feeling anything. without having to worry about getting hurt or its after effects. without the fucking pain that comes along with feeling. then, i want to wrap a chain tightly around my heart and pull until the chain cuts my heart into pieces. i want to pass out the pieces of my heart to every person i ever gave it to. i want them to stare at my fucking heart so they know that it was real, and so was the piece they ripped out. i want them to look into my cold, lifeless eyes and realize what exactly they did and how "i'm sorry" really means nothing.

i can't do this anymore. i'm not beautiful, and i'm tired of walking around and pretending i am. truth is, i lie. i'm not pretty, i'm not happy, and i am not o fucking k. i see all these plastic dolls with bony waistlines and xylophone rib cages and fake smiles but for some reason all i want is to be like them. i want to be happy, even if the happiness, along with every other part of me, is fake.

i'm not exactly sure who i am or what i am or who i was but i know i'm living. or at least i think i am. i just need something to hold on to. i need somebody to love me the way i love them. or maybe, all i ever needed was somebody to realize all this. maybe i just need somebody to understand. i can't explain my feelings to anybody and i'm done trying.

i sit here writting letters to people i don't even know and i'm not even sure exist, but i give it my all. i try to make these words come together in some sort of poetic fashion in hopes that will somehow disguise the pain hidden behind each word, but people are taking my words forgranted. lately, i've thought about just giving up on writing and feeling and explaining my feelings or lack of them. i just want to sit here and not cry and drown in my numbness with my music blasting at volumes that shouldn't be legal. i want to blow my eardrums out and carve my insides out and use them to make pretty pictures for you all to look at. i want to scream into pillows and bash my head into walls just to feel the blood dripping from my forehead so that way i at least know there's something left inside me. but in all actuality, i don't even know what i fucking want. i really don't know. i'm just another confused girl wandering in the streets with no place to go. I'm the girl sitting alone in the bar, the girl alone on the swing, the girl stumbling around the streets with no sense of direction or idea which way is home.

i need something to keep me sane, or at this point, to bring back my sanity. i think i've just given up on that now. i've given up. abandon all hope. abandon me, because i'm a sinking ship, and i'll just bring you down with me. i promise.

xo,
Le fille morte