I'm A Victim 1/1
Title: I'm a Victim
Author: me!!
Summary: I'm a victim of my own f***ing misery
Disclaimer: like so not like real! totally!
A/N: kind of short....almost like a drabble or a ficlet
Author: me!!
Summary: I'm a victim of my own f***ing misery
Disclaimer: like so not like real! totally!
A/N: kind of short....almost like a drabble or a ficlet
How cliche.
I said it was okay, but it wasn't.
I said it was okay, but of course it fucking wasn't!
I'm a vicitm of my own fucking misery.
I almost love sorrow, it's much more beautiful than happiness.
If I lost you I could just feel sorry for myself and not do anything.
I wouldn't have to.
The boy with the shining blue eyes and stunning smile packaging the perfect singing voice broke me.
I couldn't do anything if I was broken.
It's like if you're really excited for something, you almost wished it wasn't happening because then you could just calm the fuck down and lay back on the couch.
And I cannot afford much excitement because I can't get away from it all with sleep like normal people.
My throat is parched, but I don't feel like reaching for the water bottle.
I'm weighed down to this bed.
I'm a victim of my own fucking misery.
"Why did you break up with him?"
"Leave me alone."
"Not until you tell me."
"I couldn't deal with it all."
"Deal with what?.............Pete?"
"I'm sleeping."
"Asshole."
It gets brighter outside and I pull the soft blue blanket over my head.
Sighing, I close my eyes and think of him, tears running down his perfect face.
I wanted to be a psychologist when I was younger, then I re-thought it.
They try to make sense of the human brain and it's weird thoughts and human's weird actions.
The thing is, it doesn't make sense.
There is no logic to anything.
Does there have to be?
Who made that law?
My thoughts drifted back to Patrick.
So I was not alone.
He was a victim of my own fucking misery.
But aren't we all victims or some thing or another?
Eh, victims of life?
I chuckled..."Wow, I really am the King of Emo..".
comments? suggestions? feedback, please?
I said it was okay, but it wasn't.
I said it was okay, but of course it fucking wasn't!
I'm a vicitm of my own fucking misery.
I almost love sorrow, it's much more beautiful than happiness.
If I lost you I could just feel sorry for myself and not do anything.
I wouldn't have to.
The boy with the shining blue eyes and stunning smile packaging the perfect singing voice broke me.
I couldn't do anything if I was broken.
It's like if you're really excited for something, you almost wished it wasn't happening because then you could just calm the fuck down and lay back on the couch.
And I cannot afford much excitement because I can't get away from it all with sleep like normal people.
My throat is parched, but I don't feel like reaching for the water bottle.
I'm weighed down to this bed.
I'm a victim of my own fucking misery.
"Why did you break up with him?"
"Leave me alone."
"Not until you tell me."
"I couldn't deal with it all."
"Deal with what?.............Pete?"
"I'm sleeping."
"Asshole."
It gets brighter outside and I pull the soft blue blanket over my head.
Sighing, I close my eyes and think of him, tears running down his perfect face.
I wanted to be a psychologist when I was younger, then I re-thought it.
They try to make sense of the human brain and it's weird thoughts and human's weird actions.
The thing is, it doesn't make sense.
There is no logic to anything.
Does there have to be?
Who made that law?
My thoughts drifted back to Patrick.
So I was not alone.
He was a victim of my own fucking misery.
But aren't we all victims or some thing or another?
Eh, victims of life?
I chuckled..."Wow, I really am the King of Emo..".
comments? suggestions? feedback, please?