Monday, January 3, 2011
in the beginning.
There was a girl.
She loved food. but it made her sad when it made her bigger.
She lost lots of weight and all the people in the land cheered for her.
She never told anyone how much she hated it when people only cared about what was on the outside.
She tried on many masks in an attempt to find one that fit.
None of them ever did.
She never wanted pity or sympathy or help. She stopped caring about anything beyond the next day of consciousness.
The trapper of souls became the trapped.
Life got tiring. Boring. Repetitivemonotonousdeaddeaddead.
What's the point anymore?
I'm fucking sick and tired of being sick and tired.
I'm sick of lying. I'm sick of crying. The only time i ever feel happy and whole anymore is when i'm saving someone else's soul. Whenever the favor is being returned, i recoil and run away...
HI MY NAME'S YURI AND I'M OKAY AND I DON'T NEED ANYONE (especiallynotyou) TO SAVE ME, I'MNOT BROKEN AND I DON'T NEED TO BE FIXED I'MNOTLOST
and i certainly don't need to be found.
i feel like the end of days is closer than i think and it's not self induced.
I've just reached a point where the desire to repair the damage is so far removed from my list of priorities it seems that i've resigned myself to reaching the end of the road once i've hit this metaphorical brick wall.
I don't want help.
i don't want to cause grief or worry.
i don't want anyone whom i love dearly to read this and think that it's a poorly veiled attempt at a cry for help.
I'm merely voicing the truth;
i wanna save the world. i wanna help my friends find their self-fulfillment.
i wanna eat a bowl of wasabi mashed potatoes and not hate myself for it, but if that's not possible, then i'd like to at least know that i saved someone else.
who reads this shit anyway?