a little bit of a resurrection
my life journal: cutmedown








call it what you will


To let you see that maybe you are worse than your father. Or to let her know that she is a whore just like her mother. No words hold weight with me now, except my own. There is no way to take back those actions, those words. Call it sad, call me sad, what you will, but remember how I feel.

To live day after day being told that you know nothing. It breeds and festers thought. Never forgetting. Harboring the pain. In a dark and cold place. No beacon to guide. You have pulled far too many tears from my eyes. All of you. From their safety, exposing them to the evil darkness.

But your words hold no weight with me now.


written on 2003-03-10 at 2:15 p.m.

she / lost