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Why is the only mirror that I am willing to stare into... the eyes of the woman I am going to marry?
I am not healthy. The only thing I see good and special about myself is what she sees in me; she frequently reminds me that she sees it.
I only continue to live because of her. The only version of myself that I care for, is the one in her eyes.
I am not healthy. The only thing I see good and special about myself is what she sees in me; she frequently reminds me that she sees it.
I only continue to live because of her. The only version of myself that I care for, is the one in her eyes.
I am not dead, yet...
I am back, sort of... going to try to be around again.
To those that will notice.
I guess I am about to return.
I am dumping all of my writings from my teenage/college years into my Deviant Art Vault right now. I have just lost the urge to post them anymore, and I don't want to be reminded that I never finished sharing them all. They will remain in my Deviant Art Vault in case I change my mind one day. All of my writings from more recent years will remain up as well as any tributes I have written.
I am going to start sharing some writings I have made in the passed couple years that I haven't shared yet. I will be making an attempt soon to make a comment on at least one writing of the writers I watch here on Deviant Art.
This.
This sickness is haunting me.
This thirst for blood.
This rage.
This image of vileness in front me. Everything in me becoming rage, I want to lash out. Tear limb from limb. Reach my fingers in their mouth, clasp the bottom jaw, rip their throat out. Beat them with their own arms. Roar. My vision is crimson with my blood vessels coating my eyes with my own plasma.
This is too close to becoming constant only replaced by my wretched recurring dreams or the comfort of the one I love.
This is only made more bearable when I listen to my music, closing my eyes and truly embracing a daydream of this rage in action. This is what I do almost daily
The Nothing
There is something horrid when your own mind holds you back from things you enjoy simply because your day to day life makes you want to tear the world apart until you see you person you care about most. For me it is my fiance, Kelly, I am always waiting for... just so sick of my job and where I am in life.
I just want to come home, listen to music, read and write literature here on deviant art, and occasionally play some video games online. My day exhausts me, and I feel like doing nothing too often.
I get home and want to fuck off.
And on my couch I sit.
I'll flip on the laptop and go over the pointlessness, the random sites and the emai
© 2012 - 2024 Zevais
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