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Description
"Have you ever felt alone in a crowded room?"

It's that phrase again.
You don't seem to realize.

The room is my brain. And yes, it's crowded.
With fairies and beautiful things to cover up the shadows.
And yes, there are many of those.

I eat my karma and throw up bitches for breakfast.
Too soon?
It's complicated.
Because this, whole deal is wrecking me.
It's intoxicating. Brilliant. Scary. Death-defying. And nurturing all at once.
That's why it's hard to talk.

People are weird. So I don't associate with them.
There's far too much going on in here to deal with anything else.

I have people that I love. People that I hate.
People who have died. People who have come back to life again, just to die one more time. Because really, isn't life worth dying for?

We die over and over.
Every second is a wish not granted.
Every fall is a decent into hell, not madness.
There's a difference.

Quiet, is really not.
I've made up stories that happened to me.
Because they really did happen, you just don't see.
So we're given therapy. I was young once too.
But old enough to understand that life is hard enough just being you.

But see, you still don't get it.
They say i'm manic depressive and slightly psychotic.
So? Don't try to classify.

We hate that.
Yes, I said we.
You may know me, but I'm probably in hiding.
The real me is just a memory of a time when life was good and sweet.
And we were all given food to eat.
We didn't think about things like gay or straight.
We all loved each other. Replaced with a world full of red blood and self-hate.

Hate for who we are. Hate for who we've been. What we've done. What we'll do.

It's all just a game.
Would you still play if it knew it would kill me just to see your face again?
I didn't think so.
But the me you see is just a memory.

Lost inside the place where my heart rests.
Lost inside a place I can no longer forget...

Perhaps then that is the real me...
Who knows.
We don't.

We fall down, break bones.
All is lost except our one piece of mind that we called our own, once...
But still, karma cannot break this cycle.
This play. These words I don't want to, but still I have to say.

A loss of Identity?
No. That's not right. I'm simply the small one, ready to give flight to a thousand words and phrases, far beyond my years..
And even then, it's still not enough.
You don't understand that yet..

We're all..
in hiding

~End~

Description
"Have you ever felt alone in a crowded room?"

It's that phrase again.
You don't seem to realize.

The room is my brain. And yes, it's crowded.
With fairies and beautiful things to cover up the shadows.
And yes, there are many of those.

I eat my karma and throw up bitches for breakfast.
Too soon?
It's complicated.
Because this, whole deal is wrecking me.
It's intoxicating. Brilliant. Scary. Death-defying. And nurturing all at once.
That's why it's hard to talk.

People are weird. So I don't associate with them.
There's far too much going on in here to deal with anything else.

I have people that I love. People that I hate.
People who have died. People who have come back to life again, just to die one more time. Because really, isn't life worth dying for?

We die over and over.
Every second is a wish not granted.
Every fall is a decent into hell, not madness.
There's a difference.

Quiet, is really not.
I've made up stories that happened to me.
Because they really did happen, you just don't see.
So we're given therapy. I was young once too.
But old enough to understand that life is hard enough just being you.

But see, you still don't get it.
They say i'm manic depressive and slightly psychotic.
So? Don't try to classify.

We hate that.
Yes, I said we.
You may know me, but I'm probably in hiding.
The real me is just a memory of a time when life was good and sweet.
And we were all given food to eat.
We didn't think about things like gay or straight.
We all loved each other. Replaced with a world full of red blood and self-hate.

Hate for who we are. Hate for who we've been. What we've done. What we'll do.

It's all just a game.
Would you still play if it knew it would kill me just to see your face again?
I didn't think so.
But the me you see is just a memory.

Lost inside the place where my heart rests.
Lost inside a place I can no longer forget...

Perhaps then that is the real me...
Who knows.
We don't.

We fall down, break bones.
All is lost except our one piece of mind that we called our own, once...
But still, karma cannot break this cycle.
This play. These words I don't want to, but still I have to say.

A loss of Identity?
No. That's not right. I'm simply the small one, ready to give flight to a thousand words and phrases, far beyond my years..
And even then, it's still not enough.
You don't understand that yet..

We're all..
in hiding

~End~