through a glass darkly

(no subject)

i think i must be dead or else the insects wouldn't want to eat me. they'd see i wasn't rotten and know i can squash them. sometimes i am in the land of the dead and there are corpses all around me. the veil tears like paper and i am helpless to watch.

but i can't, oh i can't. i can't kill them. they're stubborn like a little three year old who wants candy. i wish they had a spray for this, one that wasn't so smelly. there are always bugs everywhere, but i can't have you see me slap them. you'd think me to be silly. so i sit with my hands folded like a perfect girl should and suffer in silence. yet, i'm supposed to tell you. yet, you don't really want to know, do you? the proper response would be to tell you "i am delusional" and "i am hallucinating" but see, that isn't what i think, not always. i try baby. i try so fucking hard.

death is knocking at my door but i didn't answer. he left a flyer and woke up the neighboors. he told me to call him back but i hate telephones.

maybe once i am 20 this will all go away. all of it all at once. then i will be weightless like a butterfly and They won't watch me anymore. it's such a long experiment. don't you usually have to sign release papers? don't they usually have a control? who is the control, and do they know they're being watched like that clock in the lunchroom?

i think "i can't do this" but what does that mean? does that mean i can't do this without getting destructive? does that mean i'm just going to die?

i am not going to kill myself. no, but sometimes i think i might just die anyway, just from the fear and the thrill of all of it, like a baby bird whose heart beat just a little too fast. i keep hitting up against my window. my wings are weak and i've forgotten how to fly.

love makes it easier. love makes it harder. for you to love me, it's like you loving that infection in you that you know is killing you. i don't want anyone to love me, because i could infect them. they could know me, really know me, not just in the biblical sense, and see that i'm tearing them apart. i want to intertwine our lives but i'm like ivy. i choke the tree.

i was born under the sign of cancer...

i want to hide myself away where no one will ever see my face, not even god. i want to bury myself in ocean tides that never go out. i want to hide under the covers and shiver like a child.

you need a bionic antibiotic antipsychotic psychopharmacutical cutical remover resolver solvent solution, stat!

i am disease.

i am sorry. god, i am so fucking sorry.

(no subject)

If life is a war I hope I'm winning. I think it might be a tidal wave instead though, in which case I hope I'm a fish... or a mermaid. I talk about myself a lot- I hope they have a pill for that too.

We're all just in it to survive, what's the big deal?

Bite the sidewalk fucker.
through a glass darkly

(no subject)

it's tradition for me to write in this thing when i'm drunk, so here i am.

i was unaware alcohol is a natural histamine. so now i feel sick as a dog (a sick dog specifically). and fat, oh so fat. pregnant with alocohol (hopefully i'll give birth to a cute little vodka drink.)

my dad is apparently feeling down, so he said

dad: emily, i'm feeling sad. what should i do?

emily: oh, go cut yourself.

he didn't listen to my advice. no one ever listens to my advice. that's why people SUCK.

oh gosh gravity is super strong right here right now. i have to go and lie down or something.

bye bye sweetie pie.
through a glass darkly

(no subject)

this formula was so important i had to write it down at work:

comma + colon = coma

it's obviously a conspiracy, after all:

2 spiders were spotted on the premises
twice did they whine about how much it was raining, and it was indeed raining
the police used to watch over the people, now they're watching the people

you'd better not be a part of this

ps. i love love love skinny puppy.
pps. or what used to be skinny puppy. they're dead to me now.
ppps. seriously though, what happened? they used to be so super awesome and fabulous.
pppps. i bet you a billion million dollars it's all part of The Conspiracy
ppppps. oh, how i love a good conspiracy theory
pppppps. i don't actually have a billion million dollars. please don't sue.

angsty posts are gay

. the end is the beginning

red'n o pew! meanings. and that's how we lose faith. "i die solo" seid i. how shameful. lufemahs woh. everything said backwards sounds like a sneeze. e zeen's magazine. the devil enters while you speak backwards words. AND THIS IS HOW THE DEVIL LIVED. kiss niks skin- ssik.

now i won. paehc s'ellehcim. -"bless you"- and this is how that devil died.

is the end . - snIkmup gnihsAMs
  • Current Music
    the sound of silence
through a glass darkly

i might be catching so don't touch! you'll start believing you're immune to gravity and such..

sometimes i feel like a leper.
a sexy sexy leper

there's no hope for a cure but we'll do our best.
so long as you stay away..
i don't want my children to be infected, no sir
ew, keep that thing away from us!

today's lepers are homosexuals, the mentally ill, the non-religious and... your mom.
but that didn't stop me last night ;)

oh no! think of the children.
through a glass darkly

the meaning of life

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the secrets to everything are in this picture.
see if you can spot them for 20 extra credit points.
can you see your face?
does it smile at you?
do you know what this says?
is it that obvious?
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    anxious anxious