I'm running out of cover slips.

Once again, Fate turns its head around and changes the whole scheme into something even I least expected. Somehow, she managed to find more and more ways to surprise me and my world. Call it, if you will, chance, destiny or consequence, still she amazes me with all her being, how she can make me think over and over and re-formulate events in this world.

Think about it. Theories of love, life and contentment, who used to be all that I base upon, are now pledges of sweet vengeance and destruction? Absurd. Yet, these are the foundations of the new mind. Then again, I may be saying these things because of after shock. Calm has not yet consumed me, nor do I want it to consume me just yet. I want to indulge in this sick, twisted mind I used to have, while writing my list of targets in my past life. Never did I expect that I’d decide to keep my pace, I thought I wanted to be someone the world wanted. But, only now, I realized that there’s no point in living that life. You’d only feel empty, like there’s a hole in you and yet you keep filling yourself with temporary, usually false, love and happiness. And this is the whole reason why I am throwing away this shattered mask, unveiling who I am in the most “accepted” (I hate using this term >.<) way.

I really don’t want to do this. The mask, although too ruined that people could already see me, is still a big part of me, one of the very few reasons I am alive, literally. I feel guilty that all of this, everything that is happening to me ever since I can remember, is my fault. Entirely my fault. I used to put the blame on other resources, but after seeing that there’s not even one who cared, then I started blaming myself. It was like staring down and pointing a loaded gun on your head. And yes, it IS one of the reasons why I cut myself. Ever since I was an unnoticed kid, I was conditioned that whatever I did wrong, I deserve to get hurt i.e. punished. But since I’ve grown up, people don’t do that to me PHYSICALLY anymore, so I do it to myself. People ask me if wrist cuts hurt and I always tell them no. In reality, it really does. Sometimes, you get paranoid that you’d lose a lot of blood, though usually you won’t if you know where to cut. Still, it hurts physically, mentally (the reality that you inflict pain on yourself just because you are conditioned to) and emotionally (the reality that you inflict pain on yourself just to check if you can still feel anything, and that you are not too numb).

If you have reached this point, I’ll have you know that I’m crying. Sounds kinda stupid, no? I cry out for someone who never gave a damn about me, while that someone buries a blade hilt deep on my back. I fall asleep, my eyes drenched in a useless flow of tears, all for me to know that you don’t even feel my existence. Look at me. I love you. Why can’t you do the same? Even if you are, why am I not feeling it? This is all my fault.

Fuck this. I’m running out of cover slips.