I've been all mopey the last two days my men being away having fun without me, being stuck at work with nothing to do, and feeling insecure in general. And I got to thinking: if I were a angst-ridden teen goth, what would I do with all those messed up feelings? Well, first, I'd start a blog on LiveJournal, then I'd write poetry. Lots and lots of overly dramatic, depressing poetry. You know: puppies dying. The world coming to a bloody, violent end. That kind of stuff. I'm never quite sure how your best friend saying she thought your shoes looked like something from the retard factory equates to suicidal rants, but who I am I to judge? Instead I'll give it a try. Maybe those angsty teens know something I don't...
Black is the color of my soul. It slowly swirls into a vortex of depression that whispers my name in mocking tones. Loneliness is the only comfort I find. Abandonment is my only reprieve from the oppression of those who claim to love. I lie back to let this dark world run it's rough hands over my body as it rips my innocence from me. I vow not to shed a tear as I wait for my final breath to release me from this prison.
Hm. So on one hand I find the drama of it therapeutic in a "omg, I need to get a life" sort of way. On the other hand... damn that's depressing shit. I think I'll stick to my sugar addiction. It's a much more fun way to do self-therapy.
| July 31, 2008 08:45am | 
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