hazellbaby's Journal

The wind tells a story as it whispers into your ear, and moves your hair out of your face. The simple fact that I know that to be true should tell you I'm not out of touch yet. I still look into the soul of a fire and hear it tell me to jump into it, I still look into the bottom of the ocean off the pier and here the crabs under the sand yelling at me, telling me that if I walk around I will miss the game that they want to play, so I should just jump in, they tell me they will catch me... and I wont feel a thing. I still look out the window of a speeding car and have the deparate urge for it to crash on my side into a wall when I dont have my seat belt on, or bend itself around a gaurd rail so I can watch you bleed as I die..... I still pretend to be asleep at night, when really my eyes are just closed so I can pretend I'm not actually crying.... thats how I fall asleep, every night, of every day, every week... every month, unless your gone.... and than its only sometimes. I still look in the mirror every morning and wonder why the gods havent taken my life back yet, I still look at you and become violently disgusted with myself, and I still hate me more than I could ever hate you, I still get up in the morning and pretend to be ok, pretend to be happy, and give everyone a fake smile and a brisk hug.... just because I know it makes it easier for you guys to get through the day when you know that I love you.... I still can carry on a conversation with the people I let think they know me, and pretend to be enjoying myself at a party when really I'm just there for the drugs... the pain goes away for a little while.... and than I need another line, bowl, slam........ I still make sure I'm always there for you when you fall flat on your face, I wipe away your blood and your tears, hold you until the pain subsides, tell you I love you and everything will be ok..... and I truely hope it will be ok for you, because its never ok for me. I still let you pretend you know what iuts like to walk in my shoes, to be sick, to be depressed, to be 16 and have seen more pain and bloodshed than you have in all your life and all your video games put together. I still make up some excuse when you ask me "whered you learn to shoot like that" or "your damn good a eyeballing a sack" I tell you it I just guessed or its all natural, it just happens or I have absolutley no clue what so fucking ever. I walk next to you silently, and wait for you patiently as you