Death Does Not Become Me....

I wasn't afraid to kill myself. Not in the least. It would have been easy to just slip into the bathtub at the cottage, and not come back up for air. Or just bleed into my freshly growing flowers that are starting to grow back in the garden. Ironic no? Taking life on fresh life. It was easy to envision. Some wandering soldier (since there's so many that like to trifle through my things) would come into my home, find my corpse, and raise the alarm. Oh no, another gypsy dead. Not like there aren't handfuls of them around Romania. And they'd take my body to the waste and dump it with all the other unidentified bodies. Some sentimental fool would come to my house and out of respect, burn my house to the ground. I would have liked that. Hey, I'm still thinking of just burning down my house for sport. It gives me goosebumps just thinking about it. The letter wasn't a cry for help, it was a declaration of what I was to do. I was ready. Completely. But m

Someone has been in my house. They've gone through my things, and littered old things that I wished not to see again throughout the property. They even had the audacity to lock the door behind them. So I've been playing darts with some old pictures. It makes me feel better. I'm going to go take a bath in MY tub, to get some of this honey out of my hair. It's been there a few days, but hey, who am I trying to impress?

I've come to realize that I've been used. You doesn't really care for me as you claim. Hell, you never claimed. You only griped and complained about my actions. So goodbye, Zillahface. Relationships are not important to you, and you aren't afraid to express that. That's ok... for you. That's not ok for me. You've disappeared for long periods of time, only to be condescending and threatening to me when you come back. I'm not an expert at relationships, but my ideal man would miss me, and show it. I've been nothing but accepting to your ways, and might I add they are not the norm. You said I'd be back. No, you'll be back. Lime.

It's no fun causing trouble by yourself. So to alieve some time and sanity, I find myself wandering places we used to go. Today I found myself in London. It felt good to spraypaint his walls. I wonder if he'll ever see it? I consider my work a true masterpiece. The carnival called out to me. I could smell the lemonade for some odd reason. Stepping onto the grounds, I felt a sudden uncomfortableness. I've never liked the carnival. It makes me feel antsy, as if everyone there is trying too hard. Forced smiles upon cracked faces. So I wandered, avoided the lionesses, because they looked hungry, watched some boxing match, pointed and laughed at a guy pretending to be a mime. Man, those guys are dumb. If Zillahface were here, he'd point and laugh with me. Then I found myself at a dead-end with this Madame Zeena character. She was older, with pretty eyes and long hair down to her waist. Just cause you've got long hair doesn't make your a decent fortune-t