Thu, Dec. 22nd, 2005
i call myself ‘exit’
because when i’m finally beat
that is my plan.
escape is easy.
exit is easier.
choice: remain here
or find out what’s over there?
get lost in a street nobody knows the name of
(there should be that fear of what every girl is afraid of)
but it doesn’t matter…i won’t know,
because, in my bid for freedom,
i stole all the pills i could find.
yes, this is still the same old story…
it gets boring.
so let’s say, for the sake of entertainment,
that i actually survive this tryst with self-destruction.
what happens after?
and that’s where….
ANGST. comes in.
the original meaning of angst…involves the unknown.
file under: fear of.
i can’t imagine.
stuck a thousand miles from home, with nothing but my habits for protection.
trying to cut myself a shield out of flesh, really doesn’t help. it only makes the holes in my defense more obvious.
since i, like so many others, have been defined as ‘sane’…
you’d think (having weighed the pros and cons)
i would choose life over eternally going over and over everything in my head that i don’t want anyway.
i might…
except that the possibility of being content is so unknown….
that i don’t even want to risk it.
