My Fucking Words

In all honesty, my heart is kinda broken tonight. I can’t even write. I want to tear up every word that spills from my fingers. Oh hell, I even hate my words tonight. I want to shred them, make THEM bleed for ME. Crush them, stomp them, punch them, kill every last fucking one. I want to slit the throats of my words tonight. Because they all betray me and leave me so bare, all my hurt showing. And I just want to bury that inside.

But my goddamn words won’t let me, angry little shits that they are. All they want to do is tell on me. That I’m in pain, that I’m angry. That I’m bitter and worthless and stupid and just fucking unlovable. That I hate and crave. That I want to die and live and fly and fall and lay beside you and just be… That my heart is jealous of what I’ll never have. Fuck, I’d cut off my fingers if that would make them stop!

I shouldn’t post this. I know I sound crazy. Well, fuck it. I am.

I know I’ll recover. A little more wary, a little more weary. And probably with all fingers intact. Maybe. But tonight, yes, I do want to scream, and sob, and dig my nails into anything and everything. I want to punch and stab and … Who am I kidding… I’ll get drunk and play video games, crying, till I fall asleep. That seems to be my fallback position.

I’ll try to drown out my words tonight. Tonight, they hate me, and I hate them back.

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