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I hate junk mail. My life is junk anyway. Junk scattered all over. My desk, my bed, my closet, and most of all, my brain. Things that I never bothered to pick up and will not ever. Not until the century closes and I'm ready to crawl. Because life's my junk and that's all there's going to be.

I wrote a depressing poem.. I'm not sure why. I guess my subconscious mind is trying to tell me something even though I ignore it. I'd have to face it someday, aren't I? It's boldy stated as "You Know"

you know it's there,
in my hand
holds those crumbles of the past
the last arguments
that's robbed our sanities,
stepping upon endless trails
and I wish it wouldn't go on

you know those echoes
I could hear those footsteps
whispering behind us
a thousand words slaughtered,
recovering the shameful tears
to breathe the other day.

you know that question
and yet it it holds no answer
but you continue in search of another
only to struggle with the fear,
the same you fight yourself with.

I wish you wouldn't pretend,
not to see the aching sores,
that stain hidden yesterday
and the scar that you've torn
you know that it'll be morning,
and I have no reason to wake.

And there ends my lovely of unrhymitic words, with really have meaning at all. I wasn't feeling so great, as you can tell. I think it's because I've failed at another thing that I promised I would do. Maybe I took it too seriously.

I wish that I was good at something. That'd be nice, wouldn't it? I already know that I'm not so great at math.. at least, not at Trig. I don't know how I even manage to flunk a retake! It's supposedly harder than the actual test.. but well, this is my last hope. I could not accept a 70%. That's a great big C-. And people say, "Well, that's GOOD!" because most people failed this awful test.

Oh, people don't know this torture. This horrible teacher who's moved ahead and half of us don't even comprehend 30% of what he is saying. Dammit, why doesn't he just shut up for once and let the things sink into our little heads?

And I've only learned how to do things in the middle of the test. It just clicked in me. Shame on me for not doing the schoolwork before. Shame, that's what I need to inflict. Because I need to deal with that anger I have. That anger I have about myself. There's a bit of hint in that poem up there. I am on that verge, almost.

I've gone to that crazy point. I've just got this deep hatred. Not even sure what it happens to hold on to. It's just all this screaming. My mother's voice. My friends' voices. My OWN voices. They tell me to do this. Do that. What should I do? How can I decide?

Can the world be quiet and let me rest? But no.. it knows that I am a selfish little bitch waiting to destroy everything, even everything she has by her own words. This is her deadly words.

I've poisoned you, yes I have. *smiles* Don't worry, it won't stain. I wish you would believe me. I wish I would believe me. But you can only read. But maybe if you stare then it'll sting.

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