One Winged Bird For Flying

shit

i have nothing to say. but maybe i need to say something. is it mandatory? am i stuck in a rut, or a bad memory played on repeat? i'm sick of it. the pretending, the masks, the feigning of caring. i have a heart, but i cant feel it... at least, not right now.

i'm falling. my lips are turning blue. i....cant....breathe.....

seeking. trying to find. i cant see anything.

i dont know you. i dont know anyone really. can you look at your best friend and really know everything aout them?

no. and even then, you die alone. even if someone is there beside you, their not coming with you. your. all. alone.

i'm ready. i want this glass box around me to shatter. i want out. i'm ready.

the music on my ipod doesnt help. its too familiar; repetitive. like my life.

no suprise there. i want suprise. i want contact. i want.. i want.... i want......

maybe i need. maybe this is all about need, not want. maybe, mabye, maybe...

nononononononononononononononononononononononononononononononononono

i'm..........screaming

screaming until the blood runs to my face. screaming until my eyes feel as if they are about to burst. screaming until my voice turns hoarse and my tongue swells and dries out.

i'm still falling.......

d

o

n

'

t

c

a

t

c

h

m

e

.......

death. the end.