★☆ (starboardsided) wrote in catharticsouls,

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i have too much candy from strangers

& you thrusted your heavy hearted words into my guts and i fell into this state. If i mix anything i will find myself in a broken hearted coma. And i continue to stir and pick at myself, humming songs that you probably would hate. writing things that would probably kill you. writing you letters and not sending them because i don't know what i'm saying. i don't know how you read the words i write in real ink. oh it's all so daytime tv. the fears that i have. i need a drink.

& really i think at times we are mirrors. You destroy yourself, i destroy myself. We fight till be both can't stand to look at each other's names all because the other is doing exactly what we are doing. i can see you, feel you, hear you. i wish you wouldn't do that...you wish i wouldn't do it either...yet i find myself in those situations and i think of you and wonder what you must think of me. Since i really don't know i think the worse, and i let that knife slide so easily into my belly. I gut myself every single night, baby i'm worthless. No pretty girl, no pretty words. Just scars and ramblings.

My history shows you could end up dead, stabbed, or just too heartbroken to really move on. Don't sign your name on my dotted line. I'm so scared.

You haven't been like anyone i've ever known, but I'm still carlenarose. I would throw her into a fire and burn her till she was nothing but ash, but...she was born right out of my pain. She is her mother's daughter, her true blood bonded one. The one with her features and her words. Oh she takes and takes and her skin slits at any sign of hope. I'm sure my father can see her, how i resemble something wild and how i get into trouble and come home too sad do anything but lay there. I'm sure he sees her, her eyes too cold and her words all negative. Dearheart, i don't want you to see her. You say i don't have mean eyes, but just ask anyone. They all see it. She, me. Me, her.

I...I don't want to be here anymore. I don't like california. I don't like how cold i'm growing. my bones crack at the first sign of pain. i've been cracking...i'm turning to dust. i don't really sing. i don't really dream. i just listen to people promise me things and wonder why. and for how long.

because...i'm not worth the effort. or the pretty words or the dreams. i always crash. and burn whatever is good and pure they say is in me.

can i go into that coma now?
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