I am Jaded yet naive

Willing yet hesitant

the happiest depressed person you'all ever meet.

so basically I'm just me.

An absolute walking contradiction

I want to go to sleep.

But I don't need to.

not yet anyway.

I can still function.

I can still write. 

I need to write.

I don't want to but it feels like if I don't get the words out of me they'll kill me.

No.

That's wrong.

I need food, water, and rest.

Honestly I can't remember the last time I ate.

I've been too busy writing.

My lips are parched and dry.

I've been too busy typing.

I haven't slept in close to three days.

If I said I'm fine I'd be lying.

I need control.

I want to finish this last piece of work.

I need to stop.

I want to keep on writing.

I might actually be dying.

I need help.

I guess this means that I'm the biggest slut you know.

Because throughout the night you plied me with alcohol

I woke up today and I still smell like cigarette smoke

And I still taste you on my mouth.

The thought of you makes my head hurt.

Or maybe it's any thought that makes my head hurt...

I found a new bruises on my knee

My hair is gonna be hell to fix.

My makeup probably smeared all over.

All things I'll deal with later.

Right now I just try to swallow away my hangover.

No use. I feel like dying.

I'm thanking god for little miracles. 

Like the bottle of water I keep next to my bed.

Glad I remembered to close the shades last night.

Because I don't want to get out of bed for anything.

Especially not to face the sun.

It's 7 in the morning. 

My family will be up soon...

I have yet to go to bed.

I don't know what I'll say

Or do.

I don't care.

My soul feels like a black hole.

My mind feels numb.

I swear I can hear my blood flowing.

I can taste bad decisions on my tongue.

I don't care.

I think I might have spoken to the devil last night.

He told me I'll fit right in down there.

So maybe I should prepare.

But whether that true or not.

I just don't care.

I don't think I can care.

I don't think I'll even try to care.

Because caring hurts and I already feel too much pain.

And pain is just another thing I can't control.

And I can control so very little of my life.

And my life is an absolute mess.

And messy things are always trouble.

And trouble....

Well I'm already in enough trouble.

But that's okay...

Because.... I, don't care.

You are a creature of only greed.

It's not about what you already have

But what else you want and need.

You know enough will never be enough

Craving being able to have more... stuff.

Greed is sin you so rudely accused.

Yet, it is one so easily abused.

My belief in God and angels wavers... My faith in miracles is nonexistent. 

Nonetheless, I believe in the Devil. He, is an artist of hatred, fear, and misery. What most people don't know is that truly the Devil and his demons are skilled in the arts.

they will sing to you the most beautiful lies, they will paint beauty in your head, and with these theatrics they will make it so you end up dead.  When you first see them they will seem beautiful. They come with soft words and peaceful smiles... As only true evil does. My favorite demons come up from hell to slice into my skin all while giving me comforting words of unwavering acceptance. They break my bones as they promise me they'll never break my heart. They would happily kill me; I would happily be killed by them. I say all this and more ever night as I talk to the Devil. And the Devil sheds tears of joy for me - his latest masterpiece.