Lyrics:
Trouble, oh trouble set me free
I have seen your face and it’s too much, too much for me
Trouble, oh trouble can’t you see
You’re eating my heart away and there’s nothing much left of me
–
I’ve drunk your wine, you have made your world mine
So won’t you be fair, so won’t you be fair
I don’t want no more of you, so won’t you be kind to me
Just let me go where I’ll have to go there
–
Trouble, oh trouble move away
I have seen your face and it’s too much for me today
Trouble, oh trouble can’t you see
You have made me a wreck, now won’t you leave me in my misery
–
I’ve seen your eyes and I can see death’s disguise
Hangin’ on me, hangin’ on me
I’m beat, I’m torn, shattered and tossed and worn
Too shocking to see, too shocking to see
–
Trouble, oh trouble move from me
I have paid my dept, now won’t you leave me in my misery
Trouble, oh trouble please be kind
I don’t want no fight and I haven’t got a lot of time
– –
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Trouble_(Cat_Stevens_song)
Lyrics:
Everyday nothing seems to change
Everywhere I go I keep seeing the same old things
and I, I can’t take it no more
I would leave this town, but I,
I ain’t got nowhere else to go
–
Wake up in the morning to more,
more bad news and I
sometimes I feel like I was born to lose and I,
It’s driving me out of my mind
Gonna catch the next train and I
move on down the line
–
I’ll be ready now
I’ll be ready when my train pulls in
I’ll be ready now
I’ll be ready when my train pulls in
I know my time ain’t long and I,
I can’t live this life again – no, no, no
—
Walkin’ down the street you might wanna cross a smiling face, but they’ll
stab you in the back as soon as you turn – walk away – and I
Oh Lord, it’s bringing me down
If things don’t change around here
ain’t no use in me hanging ’round
–
I’ll be ready now
I’ll be ready when my train pulls in
I’ll be ready now
I’ll be ready when my train pulls in
I know my time ain’t long around here and I,
I can’t live this life again – no, no, no
Lyrics:
You might be the loneliest person in the world
You’ll never be as lonely as me
Yes, you might be the loneliest person in the world
You’ll never be as lonely as me
–
All the sky it seems dark
As I’m walking through a park
But the face it is too bright to see
Or the sun might rise high
On an orange kind of sky
But the day it seems too dark for me
–
Yes, you might be the loneliest person in the world
You’ll never be as lonely as me
Yes, you might be the loneliest person in the world
Your name it would have to be me
Erased (Isle of Solitude)
(Anime/Manga)
“I want to go to an island that has no pain or sadness.”
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=X-1Qhd87tdo
(Length: 1m, 5s)
Sorry for being one big otaku, talking a lot about anime and games and stuff. ^^; But it’s all still sort of relevant, as their pretty dark and sad… Plus one user (Agnostic Angel I think) was talking about Celeste and put the “Fun and Interesting” tag to it, so I thought I would to. :p
Who knows, maybe you’ll find all the things I share like a hurt/comfort fic, and I can help all of you find something nice to get into. ^^;
Anyways, I’ll probably do a lot more in the future… though I feel pretty anxious and numbed out right now, I’m kind of scared of said future and don’t really know what to do for fun anymore… I just wish I wasn’t lonely and had friends… but for those who are enemies, I also kind of feel like this, the girl in this scene…
Anyways, I was going to quote the whole thing too for the hell of it. :p
“”The Town Without Me”, by Kayo Hinazuki. When I get bigger, big enough to go somewhere by myself, I want to go to a land that’s far away. I want to go to a faraway island. I want to go to an island that has no people. I want to go to an island that has no pain or sadness. There are no adults, children, classmates, teachers or my mom on that island. On that island, I can climb a tree when I want to climb, swim in the sea when I want to swim, and sleep when I want to sleep. On the island, I think about the town that I left behind. Kids go to school, as if nothing has changed. Adults go to the office, as if nothing has changed. Mom eats, as if nothing has changed. When I think about the town without me, I feel a sense of relief. I want to go far, far away.”
Wouldn’t it be better if everyone of us could live in his/her own unique madness?
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=F7YEVP4r2ok
Lyrics:
Leave the madman in his madness
And don’t try to bring him to his senses
You don’t know what is hidden
Inside the mind of a madman
–
He might find in his madness
Everything he has desired
And wasn’t able
To see and to obtain
–
Leave the madman in his madness
Leave him in his dream
He’s been sick and tired of this world
And he created one of his own
Been a while since I vented to my fellow suicidies. Thankfully, I haven’t been feeling so suicidal lately– but I still feel mentally unstable. I guess most of the reason for my mental stability has been my comfort in solitude and repetition. As much as the repetitive drag of everyday seems to weigh me down, I’ve felt quite anchored in it.
A few days ago I received the ominous “hey” text from an ex boyfriend. My repetitive reality has been temporarily shattered. It’s been almost a year since I last spoke to this ex boyfriend. I’ve been through a couple stages: When is he going to talk to me again, I would never talk to him again, I have no idea if I would ever talk to him again. Right now… I don’t even know. The sum of my thoughts are: I have no idea what I’m doing (I forgot how to human).
Have you ever just looked at the stars and wished the sky would absorb you, just ‘beam you up’? I saw a shooting star and simply wished I was a fish, like I always do. I wish this when the clock strikes ’11:11′, or when someone plucks and eyelash from my cheek. I just wish life was more simple. The relief it must be to just follow your instincts; to eat and breed. So easy. No feelings, no love, no heart ache, and no wishing I was anything but what I am now. Have you ever wished you were anywhere else, or anyone but who you are, just to get a break? If only for just one God damned moment…
This is love.
No, this is heartbreak. I’ve always told myself to never get caught up with exes, because what’s done has been done. It ended for a reason. But there’s just something different about this one. I hate him, but I love him. I need him, but I want to punch him. He started it: the text, the touch… The touch… ugh. How could I not tell him I wanted him to kiss me. The way he was touching me, it would be wrong if we didn’t kiss. A good kisser is one of the most important things to me in a relationship, and fuck, is he a good kisser… so soft… But this isn’t erotica… AH, the details are hot though…
“Fuck. What am I doing? Where are we going? What’s the point of it? Why did I answer his selfish text? Why did I agree to meet him where we had so many intimate memories? Why did I let him touch me the way he did? Why the fuck did I tell him I wanted to kiss him?
Why did it feel so damn good, but so horrible at the same time? How is it possible? How are these feelings possible? What are these insane, cautious, nervous, excited feelings?
What does he want? What do I want? What the fuck do I have to lose? I’ve already lost him.
Why does it make me feel empowered– in control– while I sit back and watch him squirm in his tortured turmoil? Can I leave behind and put an end to my resurfacing feelings for him? Is that what he wants? Is that how he feels?
He wants me, but I can’t. I need to hold onto as much self respect as possible– if i haven’t already thrown it all away. If he really wants it, I have to make him work for it. To a point of giving up– to a point of relapse.
But God, do I want it too.. His kisses are enough to make me fall in love again. Am I in love again? Is there a possible sliver of him that feels the same way? He told me I’m ‘spoiled milk’. Does he really mean that? Did he not feel the intensity between us? The so called ‘passion’ I’m reading about in ENG 205: Like a comet, the passion has burned out or traveled to a different universe. But isn’t it true that some comets travel to the same place more than once? That passion can be rekindled so long as the spark is strong enough?Â
This feels like love. New, stale, love. I know how love feels. Deeper than lust– the need to hold– the wish to kiss– the feeling when we’re apart– the butterflies in my stomach– the rush I feel from recalling the night before– the need to spill my guys to him. But I’m not so foolish. This situation will be handled more cautiously and controlled than any other relationship with a boy I’ve had. God, he is the furthest from a boy I’ve ever had. He will be wrapped around my finger and kept in my rear view so he knows just who’s running the show. I will not hesitate to accept new love from a different man. God knows I need a new one. Why the fuck to my exes keep haunting me like decrepit, horny ghosts?
My stomach has never been so twisted up in so long. My head hasn’t been this foggy, my heart torn, my body aching.
Why am I so confident when I’m writing, but when my eyes leave the page and begin to absorb the reality around me, I feel like I could fall apart?! Fucking drives me crazy, this reality shit. What the FUCK!?
What I would give right now to know what he’s thinking. To dive straight into his heart and feel the very emotion he’s feeling right now. Just for a second. I know he feels crazy. But its it the same crazy I feel?
This is either going to end amazing or terrible. Most likely the latter. Why does he torture me so!? Why does his scent feel stuck in my nostrils– his touch echoing through my skin? I hate him. I hate him so deeply for what he’s doing… What he’s doing to her… The fucking nerve. God, I miss him.”
My mind tries to understand why things happen and say “there was a reason for that”. However it is simply an excuse, as if my mind is trying to make reason out of the shit that happens to me. It doesn’t take long for me to realize what’s going on, this defense mechanism isn’t very efficient once I’ve realized what it’s doing, but it doesn’t stop it from trying.
I can’t function under stress, any kind of stress. It isn’t even a big deal, I’m just unable to deal with stress. Even if it’s a tiny obstacle in my life, it becomes such a great deal that my mind has to turn on its defense mechanisms to try and keep me functioning.
Saying I have confidence would be a joke. Someone could walk up to me and say “You’re a terrible person.” and then kick a dog and strangle an old lady on the way out, and I would start to think that I’m a terrible person.
I hate when people think about me, it causes confrontation which is what I hate most. I would enjoy a life of solitude, I regret making friends at work, and I regret hanging out with the friends I made when I was in school, but I can’t leave them now, it would cause too much confrontation.
I can’t deal with sad people either, because I do not care about their problems, not out of lack of empathy but simply because I cannot relate to people with real problems. I do not understand how they do it, small issues in my life cause me to become depressed and contemplate my existence, I could never deal with real problems.
Being at the age between dependence and independence I know soon I’ll start experiencing a lot of serious problems, problems that will no doubt cause me to go insane, how can I deal with all these new problems if I can barely handle my current problems? I don’t want to deal with those problems, so I want to die, but I can’t kill myself, my mind won’t let me as I’ve already spent many days with my fathers .45 S&W.
I’m simply living, biding my time waiting for a chance to die, the most ideal position? To die for another person, somehow my mind is okay with that. I sit in traffic every day hoping maybe a bus will come flying out of control while civilians are crossing the street, I could swerve in front of it and take the hit, hopefully dying but saving the civilians on the crosswalk. I sit in my workplace hoping some poor man will finally snap and rush in the place with a shotgun and shoot me as I attempt to disarm him. I sit in the parking lot after work and wish a meteor would come crashing down and I could just stare at it as it comes towards me, shit that sounds beautiful.
I am completely aware that I would be saving someone only as an excuse to die, and I am completely okay with it. That person would never find out I was only using them, and hopefully they would soon forget me as ideally it would be someone I do not know.
The word excuse is a great analogy for my life, every time I do something it’s just an excuse my mind uses to keep my going. Adequate is a good one too, everything I own is simply adequate, my computer that is just adequate enough to play my games, my car that is just adequate enough for me to do my job, the engine light that has been on for weeks and the broken fuel gauge, broken anti break system and barely functioning power steering pump.
My life is just one big fucking excuse.
i am in pretty bad shape too man….i can feel you and see how many you and me there really are, imagine the total grief and helplessness and hopelessness in this world man, it is enough to be a world in itself, maybe that is what hell is. maybe hell is the collective weight of all peoples’ failed aspirations, expectations and dreams, maybe hell is the all weighty almighty DREAM that was never chased. it just lies there, emptying slowly, its mass and thickness invading all that comes in its way, it comes inside you and me thijs, through the nose, close your eyes all you want but it’ll seep in through your ears. discontent man, what worse curse can be laid onto someone, still and stagnant melancholy, and a person who has come to terms with it, an unmoving collection of atoms who always looks down at the floor, it is he that is satan thijs, not your maniac who laughs and plans the downfall of all others, satan is the man who is so down below everyone that he is not even aware of their existence. the music it surrounds you from every dimension, its tone is not the only source of ache, its presence itself is a reminder of satan, the boy who lost his will. im afraid of satans thijs, for real, i am scared of seeing them, you see one and you want to help them, you can never help them thijjs, they just end up ‘helping’ you, you bring a part of satan with you and one day you see him in the toilet, inside the toilet water, just standing there, not knowing why he came there in the first place, just looking in at the same pairs of eyes looking out, becoming clearer as the water stills… and hazier. You learn to lose focus thijs, you become a star gazer, and when people are around, you look for the stars in the floor, your eyes forget how it was to see things, you can hold a view only for a moment and after spontanously find yourself looking behind what you once ‘saw’. and all at once you understand how solitude is no longer something to seek, it does that for you now. you long pass the phase of being able to use this in something creative, it was a well of such potential that you find yourself drowning in it, the thick mucus is going in your nose thijs, close your eyes all you want but it seeps in through your ears, discontent. and now you explore company, since misery really does love it, where do you find thijs? in artists whom you wanted to be. keep an eye on yourself, its a slippery slope all the way to satan man, the fucking kid who fucking lost his will..
“I don’t understand why we must do things in this world, why we must have friends and aspirations, hopes and dreams. Wouldn’t it be better to retreat to a faraway corner of the world, where all its noise and complications would be heard no more? Then we could renounce culture and ambitions; we would lose everything and gain nothing; for what is there to be gained from this world? There are people to whom gain is unimportant, who are hopelessly unhappy and lonely. We are so closed to one another! And yet, were we to be totally open to each other, reading into the depths of our souls, how much of our destiny would we see? We are so lonely in life that we must ask ourselves if the loneliness of dying is not a symbol of our human existence. Can there be any consolation at the last moment? This willingness to live and die in society is a mark of great deficiency. It is a thousand times preferable to die somewhere alone and abandoned so that you can die without melodramatic posturing, unseen by anyone. I despise people who on their deathbed master themselves and adopt a pose in order to impress. Tears do not burn except in solitude. Those who ask to be surrounded by friends when they die do so out of fear and inability to live their final moments alone. They want to forget death at the moment of death. They lack infinite heroism. Why don’t they lock their door and suffer those maddening sensations with a lucidity and a fear beyond all limits? We are so isolated from everything! But isn’t everything equally inaccessible to us? The deepest and most organic death is death in solitude, when even light becomes a principle of death. In such moments you will be severed from life, from love, smiles, friends and even from death. And you will ask yourself if there is anything besides the nothingness of the world and your own nothingness.”
–E.M. Cioran, On The Heights of Despair
Hearts beats together as one
Brown eyes stare
Hand shivers at your embrane
Knees weaken
What, Why is this happen
Tears falls
A silent mumble
Falls slowly to the ground
Will you be there to lift me back up
No no you wont
These emotions, these feelings
Of solitude , of loneliness has overcome me
No clue nor understanding
What do you want of me
I am dead , cold ice cold
These emotions have caused murder
I died in solitude and alone
Hand-written 🙂
Pain overriding any rational thoughts
only feeling what I want most not too
Churning in my stomach, and burning in my chest
How did this happen, I ask
Only to be reminded that there is no explanation
No concrete answer to the question I’m seeking
I just have to accept what is.
Accepting a reality of isolation, loneliness and solitude
Feeling imprisoned by my own being
Trapped in a world I can’t escape
Following me wherever I go.
My mind plagues my every thought
The inner bully condemning every part of me
Ruthless, harsh and callous
Never stopping with its relentless bashing.
Only sleep gives that break that I so longingly strive for
A break from my conscious mind and the world around me
A world in which everything is forgotten
A place where I am no longer running from myself
A place where I am for a short moment, free.
Yet everyday I wake back up into this nightmare
My eyes open and the room closes in
The feelings of dread engulf me
Anxiety overwhelms me
And I realise I have yet another day to endure in this hell.
Like a candle that disipates
into the velvety darknesss
of solitude,
I am smoothered by an unseen hand.
And the darkness
is like a fog
that rolls in off the sea and never leaves
Can anyone see me?
Can anyone hear my cries?
Or will I fade unnoticed
like a candle;
in the dark.
Right now, things seem to be getting better. I’m able to go on without my razor as much, I can enjoy music like I used to, laugh purely because I want to, not feel that pain that can’t be explained somewhere within my heart…
But that will all change when school starts again. When I have to rejoin the real world, and see it for what it is. When it presses itself against my face – when reality comes back to wake me from my dreamworld that I created to protect myself – It will all be as it were. I’ll be cutting again, empty, emotionless and hollow again.
Because that’s the only way to survive in this world…Not give a damn whether it hurts, to only think of yourself, because you can’t afford to think of others.
Human beings…every now and then you meet someone who seems to be truly different from the rest. Then, they show your their real sides.
Experience that enough times and you learn to trust no-one.
You can’t fool yourself forever.
Sometimes it’s good to give in.
Now…where’s that razor…?
Ahh, here it is.
My salvation
From this pain.
Between physical and emotional pain, I’d take the physical. Anytime.
Here I stand, in front of the mirror once more. The disgusting creature standing before me is not me, not the me I ever wanted for myself. Unmotivated to even live my life anymore I see the imperfections of the body, the lies behind my eyes. I am not the type one would imagine to have such thoughts, I am the cheerful one, the intelligent one, the kind hearted soul. Even as I smile at myself I see the lie, the deceit behind the sweet gesture. I want so much to be saved by my lover, the man I have given everything to, but only solitude awaits me. I say nothing to indicate my troubles, so he does not know, all because it is so easy to hide behind a text. The lies are easier when I am not near him, I know he would care, I know he would help me through this, but if I let him help me I will only fall for him even more. I won’t let myself love him, not openly, he is not mine, nor will he ever be. He is in love with his freedom and I would never ask him to give up something so important for my sake. I can not lean on him for forever, he is not mine. I can not let him help me, even though these thoughts are starting to make a dangerously logical conclusion with my life ending as the final result. There is simply not a future for someone like me, someone who’s only talent is to make people smile. Such a worthless talent, such a waste of life for something so unimportant. I will continue to make others smile, its just my nature, but I am corroding away. I myself will continue to cry alone in this dark room, with only my reflection to accompany me into the depressions of my mind.  I do not want to live here anymore, I just want to fade away, to simply disappear. I do not want anyone to cry for me, I do not want them to dwell on my death, but I also do not want them to forget. I want them to remember so that perhaps, in some small way, there is proof I once existed. That is my selfish wish.
humans are selfish to varying degrees ..
self-interest motivates their actions more than often
if people feel like they can relate to you (a reminder they aren’t alone) or think there’s sthg to gain from knowing you
(laughters, ego stroke, money, sex, social exposure etc)
then they’ll bother to know you .. there’s something in for them
if your attitude says: “I really need someone to notice me .. anybody !!!
I’m dying over here and my complaints are pretty much all I have to offer”
the majority won’t care till you’re dead .. very unfortunate but true
create in others the desire/drive to know you
get them to believe this: (s)he doesn’t (really) need me while I can gain sthg from knowing him/her
My world is sinking in
Ankle-deep
And skin, too thin.
Trapped in solitude,
Surrounded by multitudes,
Misunderstood
Left unprotected,
Left too corrected.
Caught in a dream world,
Not here, not there.
Nowhere.
Bullet in my head,
Swinging from a tree,
Buried six feet under,
Why won’t she die?
Â
Ripped and broken,
Torn a sunder,
With a heart like hers,
It’s a wonder.
Let her wander,
In the desert,
Through the mud,
There is no water,
Only sun..
Breaking chains,
Breaking free,
Still feel bound,
To every day.
Breaking hearts,
Broken mind,
Breaking promises,
Need to unwind.
Breaking faces with fists of iron,
And suffering the consequences
From whence they burn.
Time to sleep,
Time to die,
It’s better than this,
Unable to cry.
Foundering in my thoughts,
Left to think,
It’s a crime,
To plot to murder yourself
For less than the dime
You found in your wallet,
Hidden in your pocket,
Hidden in your mind.
Her wings are broken.
And I still have thoughts,
left
unspoken.
I’ve been going through the motions for a few years, now. Living on autopilot, mostly. I occasionally do something nice for myself; traveling to China and Europe and getting a new car and cool new toys. Sometimes that makes me forget. Sometimes it makes me question my decision. It always fades, though, and the reality always returns to embrace me and remind me why. I always smile and accept, too; death is a light at the end of my tunnel. I look forward to it, but it is something I cannot allow myself to have just yet; I am still needed. There is someone very important to me who still needs me and I can’t leave them. There used to be more and there are probably some who feel they do, but I don’t feel the same. Eventually, though, I will no longer be needed and I will be free to move on.
I want to say that this is what my ex-wife and my ex-fiancé have done to me, that this is what my job has done to me, but it is what I have done to myself. I actually used to be phobic of death and dying thanks to being raised an atheist. It was so bad that the merest thought of it would give me an anxiety or panic attack.  One day, though, I was placed on anti-depressants that brought me closer to suicide than I had ever been and my phobia just melted away.
I admit I have a problem, but not all problems can be solved, very few can be talked away and this one I don’t want to go away. Very few things comfort me, now; I have been alone for probably six years, now, and the pain of solitude has been replaced with something else. I prefer it. I used to be a very social person. I had many “friends”, I had a class clown personality, always living to make people laugh. All it took was just one person to tear it all down, and when I began to rebuild, all it took to tear it all down again was just one person. I tried a few more times, but I could never move beyond physical attraction; I could not form an emotional bond. I tried to fool myself to believe I did, but when I would eventually leave them or vice versa, it never hurt any more. No more than losing a CD. So I gave up and accepted that I would be the only companion I ever needed from then on.
So now here I am. Alone yet not alone. Needed by the only person who matters to me and only here because I could not bear the thought of hurting them. Waiting until I am no longer needed.
“Let me tell you this: if you meet a loner, no matter what they tell you, it’s not because they enjoy solitude. It’s because they have tried to blend into the world before and people continue to disappoint them.”
I’ve never felt more alone than I do now. Some days, including this one, I think I’m bi-polar. I’ve never been officially diagnosed, but it wouldn’t amaze me if I was. I repel people more than I compel any form of welcome, probably because of the anger I constantly wear on my sleeves, or my lifeless stare that can become intimidating once I move my eye brows in the right, or perhaps, the wrong direction. These eyes of mine can look just as puzzled as anyone else pondering why I look so angry and full of disgust all the time. The answer, for anyone with a pulse, is really quite simple: I F*CKIN’ HATE FAKE PEOPLE.
Let’s face it, we’re all more than likely to encounter more sh*t (yes, people can count as sh*t/obstacles/problems) than we’d like to. And it’s almost always fake sh*t; people pretending to be gangsta but have never taken a beating or given one in their lives’ trying to start sh*t; hypocrtitcal people who treat others as hypocrites except themselves and try to justify their own double-standards when there’s really no excuse; people who lie to get something out of others without any remorse; people smiling in each other’s faces while backstabbing one another and ruining friendships and relationships for no good reason; people living off of other people and pretending they are the breadwinners, having never worked a day in their lives’; (INSERT BULLSH*T HERE).
The more fake sh*t/fake people I encounter who try to or give me problems, the more solitary I would rather be. I yearn for it because there’s no greater comfort than that of one’s own untainted, honest reality. It’s a comfort zone I retreat to; my cave of solitude where I know I can trust myself.
Unfortunately, as it is with many things not treated with moderation, it’s easy to get bored, lonely and depressed into feeling like there is and isn’t hope in finding someone to trust. The desperation and longing for another’s company makes you think attempting the same thing over and over again (trial and error) will bring good things – it never does; it’s delusional, wishful thinking.
After accepting an eternty of solitude, I feel I’ve hit points where ending it would be the greatest gift I could give myself — freedom from this sh*t life of mine. But the question hits: even if I did end it, where the f*ck would I end up, and how the f*ck would I know it would be better than what I already have? That uncertainty is, thankfully and ungratefully, what has kept me alive this long. It sucks knowing that we don’t know , and there’s no real way to know (yet, anyway) if what is after this life is better or worse.
So, as insanity would have it, I run back and forth, in and out of my cave, seeking both solitude or a companion of trust. And, as is common to define insanity, I seek the balance continually engaging in a repetitive activity where I think I’ll eventually achieve a desired result, but I obviously won’t; I’m stuck in an infinite loop of my own making.
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