A Manifesto of Tangible Affection

What if I wanted to break
Laugh it all off in your face
What would you do?
What if I fell to the floor
Couldn’t take all this anymore
What would you do?

I’m laughing at my own collapse. I happened to have lifted the sleeves to my jacket only to declare, “Oh look, I cut yesterday.” I was almost proud of the courage I had used to do it. He promptly smacked the back of my head, and I laughed again. He said, “It’s not funny. You’re going to kill yourself one of these days.” Laughter continued to ring from my lips, “I know! Isn’t it great?”

There’s nothing wrong with me. Really. My life is picture perfect! And don’t you dare use a sarcasm-detector on me.

I abhor being happy. I miss being my miserable self where I at least knew what I felt. Now it’s practically impossible to pinpoint the culprit. I also ahbor starting a lot of sentences with, “I,” but what can I do? Conceited is my middle name, but not really. You get me? Of course you don’t.

There’s a bright side to this suffering. Bipolar disorder is the genius man’s mental illness. I pray I’m bipolar. All my doubts would be answered like that -insert a finger snap- if I were.

They’re right this time. I won’t pretend to smile because inside I’m black and I am hollow.
Too bad I smile anyway.

In other news, I have one quiz and three tests this week, in addition to a debate in AP English. Am I excited? Not as much as I would have hoped. I’m losing sight of my goal; my goal has and always will be to succeed in life and live utterly alone. I can’t stand anyone loving me even though I crave it. Tell me you love me, but don’t mean it. Don’t make me meaningful. Apparently I have another middle name: unworthy.

I’m going to ruin someone’s life someday. I sense it. It’s that spidey-sense of mine. Word vomit, yo. Now I’m just rambling. Digression. It’s fun, you should try it some day.

My heart’s beating faster.

Now I fully understand her craving for attention. It’s suddenly hit me. Right in the face. Regression never felt so right. This feels so wrong. I am not profound.

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5 Comments

  1. What’s this? What’s this?
    There’s something very wrong
    What’s this?
    There’s people singing songs

    What’s this?
    The streets are lined with
    Little creatures laughing
    Everybody seems so happy
    Have I possibly gone daffy?
    What is this?
    What’s this?

    There are children throwing snowballs here
    Instead of throwing heads
    They’re busy building toys
    And absolutely no one’s dead!

    huzzah for nonsensical comments! <3

  2. If I miss, I miss:

    Your “…ambition is to be a psychiatrist.” In this entry you said you can only pin-point misery. So use the skills you’ve developed in “early psychiatry” to find what you DO feel. I’m not giving you an answer, I’m simply just leading you. It’s your choice whether to be or not to be whole.

  3. hey you.

    i’m back! and classes start today. 🙁
    but i only have 1! (yay!)

    anyway, i come back only to hear you being emo again. bipolar, eh? saves me the trouble of diagnosing your mental state for you. ;ppp

    but really, it could just be your hormones~

    uhmm.. if that’s any better. ^^;;

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