12:08 a.m. - April 25, 2012
19
Sometimes I wish I died at 19. Prime of life--perfect for death. Give me dreams, give me hope, give nothing else but coke. I want you, but who will I want tomorrow? I open my heart, and close it up before I encounter the next. After a lifetime of misery, I think I deserve some dignity. Oh those were the days, when I didn't care if I died or lived. Today was now, and your heart was mine to swallow. The line between good and evil was thin, which I snorted away, anyway. My anchor was my bed. How I wish I never woke from that day...

I would get so high, and higher, and never came down. I was 19 and I was the epitome of teen, I was pretty. After all that I got put throw, I deserved something to erase it all. I just lived and that was fine. Nobody got it, they just learned to take it. If not they left. It's mine, my life and you don't give a fuck, nobody really has. If they say they do, they just mean they wish to own me, but they don't--and you won't! The harder you try to tame, the higher you set you set-up your illusion, which will crumble beneath you. I haven't changed, and I never will. There's a self-destruct mode underneath it all which threatens the existence of all.

All my friends are dead and so am I, I'm just waiting for this body to extinguish. I tried so hard when I was 19, but of course I didn't succeed. Oh I miss being that naive and free. Oh how I miss challenging my fate everyday. How I wish the love for death. I was more alive then, than now. I'm a dried up corpse, walking aimless--with my cheap highs and my outlandish dreams. No hopes, just detachment waiting for that day.

After 19, I have been living in a shadow.