Lies Its All Lies
Thursday, Apr. 08, 2004, 9:20 P.M.

death is creping in behind you....are you gonna do it your self, or get someone else to?

Okay so it has been a missleading while since I have been here but none the less. You know fro some reason the dark stage of life I was in, is gone. I no longer belong there. But in any case I will try to return.....

As I sit in my room I notice something. I notice the things I never saw before. The suicide signs and the obvious crys for help. I notice the pain that is carved deep into the walls and the many tears that have fallen on my pillow. I notice the death threats that haunt me at night, and I notice the crack in the wall that I tryed to couver. I notice the lies that are beheld in this room and the lies that are held within my own lips. I notice all of these things, thinking to my self...Is this me? Do I really desire to do such things? Do I desire this sucess in life? I said no. Stood up and left to never to return to lies and the cries, to the anger and the hate, to the death and the suicide.

I moved into a new room today. It is much bigger and allows me kills the walls with my hate. I look foward to this.

My pain is both my missure and my daeth.

Man if tonights entry is not a jumble of misslead thoughts and great confussion I do not think I will ever know what is.

As she sits in her room looking at her perverted walls. And her distroid thoughts. As she looks around her room she notices the pain that is held deep with-in it. Between the crackrs on the walls and the line stokes of the drawings on the wall. Between the pain and the depth that is in all of this she sees something more, something so much more then what others see when they enter. They only the suicide writen on the walls, the only see the tears she cries, they only see the anger that her fist made when it hit the wall, they only see her death. But when she sits ther and looks at her room, her palce of serenity, her place that she feels she can be her self, and only here she can be her self. When she looks around this place she sees so much more then the anger and hate, then the pain and the tears, more then the death and suicide, because she can see depper then that. Deeper into it. She can understand it and apreciate it. Its art. Its a story in a singel word. Who can not apriciat such things? Her parents, her friends, her siblings. Well screw them. I understand it I want it and I live it. With or with out them....the next day she was found dead.