The Original Fake Audrey.

I just wanted them to show a single sign of caring. Someone who didn’t always put me at fault….someone, who realized what I was doing in the bathroom…, carving letters of annoyance, there ignorance, and my insanity on to a trembling anxious leg of terror. Would they even notice the blood on the wall that I tried so hard to erase? Again I add I’m crazy and have nothing but pain and negativity to bring to this world. I can’t remember the last time I felt that the world wasn’t crumbling under my feet. Everything about this world angers me in a way I can’t explain. Did it matter one solitary girl was alone in a bathroom and cured herself with blood and some vomit. Again now writing on the walls throwing things, kicking stuff, not even shedding a single tear as I felt weak, depressed, and passionate……it was something about the moment that gave me a certain degree of closure. It also made me realize how dramatic and passionate I was about each and every moment. How every hand motion and jump I did to let out my frustration was quickly helping. The feeling is now almost a blur. My second outburst was a little more reckless…..it has been many times that I’ve lost my self control though yesterday I actually felt if I had went even more insane I would have crossed the line. I would have done something worse. I stopped and realized I care at least enough to stop myself for once. I cleaned my blood that was on the walls, mirror, and tub, lipstick that I wrote profound things with and the water that I flooded the room with. That was my decision. I trashed my own bathroom and had my satisfaction and now needed to realize I was still in a house with 5 others and in a world with billions of others. Though my views of the world and everyone’s sad judgment are pretty much the same, image seems to be everyone to people. I don’t take back my outburst and the reason why I did it. Though I tell myself the right thing my free will and need to rebel makes me kick my way to destruction. My mind is filled with demons and angels’ contemplating what I should do next and it’s a struggle. I’m still violent in many things I do and most of the times don’t feel bad. I always ask God why…Does it matter how pretty and skin you are when you’re a horrible person? Why does image have to be everything? Why is it that even my parents spread that message? I refuse to remain sane if I feel like the only one who knows about common sense. The maturity everyone lacks is a great deal….some days I can’t go a day without an argument with an ignorant brainless shallow person who thinks there views are always right. All I have to say is they have it coming….because my mind attacks in a way that I would say terrorizes the person in a emotional and physical level and will make sure I devour there soul as if they had taken life from me, and do it until I feel the satisfaction that never seems to come easy….revenge comes without difficulty thanks for making my a hateful human being world.

(Sorry about the color just highlight as if you were going to copy and paste to read.)