I am a world champion hater and at the moment I hate so much that it twists my gut and steals my appetite. As proof of a lack of a better me I hate you so much I've been wishing you dead. Harsh. I'm an honest bitch and I shouldn't say these things. Sometimes, however, I have to let it out so as not to destroy myself. Ironically, letting it out undoubtedly destroys me in the eyes of others. Where to go when you're down? You go nowhere, honey, 'cause there's just nowhere to go and then oh one one day you drag yourself up. Or over. Or just plain out.
There's more than one out.
And the day comes when you can't stand the curtains anymore and you throw them away. You change the look and the feel and you fucking well move on.
I can't be here any longer. I can't be the caricatured character of a sliver of my self. I can't be your nicknames for me. I can't be the person I was. I can't even be the person I wasn't who, in the end, simply wasn't good enough. Most important, for the moment, is that I can't be this anymore.
Once I could have cut you in an uncomplicated mental ritual. Obliterated you from my life and purged the memories. To tell truth I've done some of that but I can't bring myself back to the drama of the past. I can't do it anymore. Let it fade away; it will soon enough. Let it fade and me with it.
As I've heard so many times - I'll see you on the flipside.