Angelina Gembara | via Tumblr on We Heart It
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And again… I’m running to a point, I never thought to be.
I start smoking again. I hate the smell, but I really love the feeling.
Smoking fast and lose the feelings of your body. Start to run, even when I haven’t enough oxygen. Running and smoking. Fall down. Feel street under your skin. Feel the pain.
Pain show me that I’m still alive. Most time I feel like an alien or like a marionette. Not real. Not human. Speechless. Blind. Without feelings. Without a heart.
I lost the feeling for living or be a part of this world. I just stand there and… Watching… Ask myself “Do I live right now? Am I really alive?”
In the middle of people I feel lost. Feel like a nobody. Feel like nobody see me. Feel lonely. Just feel close to one friend of mine.
Even if he don’t really knows me. Don’t know any of this black thoughts.
And at least when I’m close to him, I have the feeling he doesn’t like me.
I know the things he said against me are just jokes, but each word is hard for me. Sometimes I feel like these things aren’t just a joke.
I don’t feel comfortable in any situation with people. I smile, laugh and speak all the time, but my heart don’t feel any of this. Honestly I don’t really feel what I do.
Well and every time I look into my mirror I start to hate the ugly girl inside, which called myself.
Sound’s like normal girlish problems, but what I hate more than this girl are the voices and thoughts which never stop.
I love it to smoke outside at night. It’s quite. Beside my thoughts.
Just sitting in our garden and look at the stars. They seems to scream that they shine for hope. But I really don’t know if there is anything like that…
Honestly, I don’t want to be like that.
I can cry 24/7, but I don’t want that. I want to be happy, to be normal. Without this depression thoughts. But every time I’m at my psychologist I can’t speak. I can’t tell somebody about my fucking inside if I had to see this person in real life. I can’t speak about this creepy shit inside my head.
Why is it that heavy?
Tears at my cheeks. Blood at my skin.
I’m bleeding inside but I’ll never die.
I’m bleeding outside but never this much that I could die.
Seems like a never ending story.
My scares tell stories nobody will ever hear from. I’m not strong enough.
And nobody will noticed this scream…
One day I’ll be a star and shine for a person I’ll never know to give hope!