If I wasn't here tomorrow, would anybody care? Would anyone lose sleep? Who would cry me an ocean and say that they missed me? Or Are we all in a masquerade, wearing masks with false impressions printed across our skin? If one says they love me and another they admire me, what do they truly think? He's too critical, so cynical, and he whines about some girl all the time. Would he just stop it? I'm sick of his voice and that obnoxious laugh. The way he dresses is so drab, and he really is too loud.
I think often about faking my death, and going to my own funeral, just to hear what people think of me.
But then again, at funerals, everyone says the positive. Nobody ever says anything negative at a funeral, because that's just disrespectful. I want to go in someone else's body. Find out the truth. So that I can fix myself.
We're all Kinda like an old, dusty raggedy Ann doll. We all are made a certain way, to a certain creators specifications. And we always try and change that doll. We pull out the stitches, and rip off the button eyes, but truth is, we don't know how to sew it back together. We do what we can to impress every single peer, just stabbing it with a needle and thread, thinking we're sewing some gorgeous creation, but all we really create is a monster. Just like the people we model our dolls after. A pincushion. With all the pins, people pin their opinions on our voodoo doll, like it's Pinterest, pinning pins we like, when we don't realize, that the needles and pins damage our souls. Our souls are not a pincushion, our souls are a porcelain doll. So fragile and beautiful, and some rather creepy... Take care of your soul like some vintage old doll. Don't let anyone touch it, like it's your most prized possession. Like your collection of hot wheels, or dumb Barbie dolls. Or maybe if you're satanist, your furby collection.
Don't let anyone touch it, don't let them take. Don't even let them add to your collection, because you want the pride and joy of knowing that you collected it all yourself. Look ma, no hands!
Now I guess what I'm saying is don't listen to others opinions. Let your doll be. Let your creator be the one to stitch you and sew you. Tell your peers to fuck off, because you're beautiful to someone. No matter who you are.
"Find out the truth. So that I can fix myself."
ReplyDeleteI think about this a lot. Makes me happy to know I'm not the only one.
I'm sick of his voice and that obnoxious laugh. The way he dresses is so drab, and he really is too loud.
ReplyDeleteI love this. Stolen.
I really liked your analogy to the dolls, that 4th paragraph is just gold. Love it!
death can only come if we are in it together
ReplyDeletecome, my friend and together we can escape the world.
Delete
ReplyDeleteI think often about faking my death, and going to my own funeral, just to hear what people think of me.
we are the same and I'm a little in love with you. so.
esther.
No no, Esther, I've had a kind of blogger crush on him since day one.
DeleteStay away from the light.
ReplyDeleteSometimes I wonder: is writing about pain self-indulgent and a gateway to worsening the problem, or is it venting, a sort of therapy for the soul?
I think often about faking my death, and going to my own funeral, just to hear what people think of me.
ReplyDeleteI want to go in someone else's body. Find out the truth. So that I can fix myself.
relatable.
i love this
I'm stealing to much to even explain what and what not.
ReplyDeleteI really loved this post. real, and raw. People may say writing gets to emotionally self indulgent. People may say it stays to fake and happy. I think, you're a wonderful writer.