part of a story ill never finish

I find myself staring at her, not sexually , but to take in her entire atmosphere. She see's the knife in my hand and immagies the worst. The knife is there just for the show, to create that fear that drives me insane, you can smell it , the adrelene causeing her to stare wildy at me and she cannot sit still , her legs shaking enough to shake the building off its very foundation.
I slowly approach her, not with hate or malace, but with a simple curiosity as to what she will do next. I run the knife smoothly down her arms , pressing it down gently enough for her to notice. On her legs i do the same, but applying just enough force to make a few beads of blood appear. After this she cries out in pain, but realises that noone is comming to save her , to rescue to her, she is mine and nothing will change that now. She begins to look around the room and sees what she dosen't want to see.
As it so happens, i usually heep drawings and illustrations of various skeletal structures and muscle groups lying around , and at this time i had more then usual, and I had to begin to pin them to the walls, and this created a dark ambiance for her.
I can see now that she is losing hope , and even silently praying to her god won't save her. A darkness floods her eyes and she hangs her head. I think to myself "let us prolong this , she is too weak , we must show her the true ways and show her what it means to be strong now". I walk out of the dark damp room she would call her tomb soon enough.



Ill do more later, im tired now

tonight i found myself watching horriblemovies andpictures of violent deaths and decapatations...but I couldonly find myself laughing at them. I have no idea why but it felt significant enought for me to have towrite it down here. In case I forgot sometime, the spacebar on this laptop is shit , and hardly works anymore.

Another night of insomnia, perhaps ill stare at a wall and die of boredom now.

hmm...

i find myself questiong everything around me . why do we hold on to our lives when were going to die eventually. why do we fight for what will eventually be lost anyways? I really do hope that this is really just my teenage hormones fucking up my mind, but im not so sure anymore. Ive always had questions like this is my life. Even when i was 8 years old i still have memories of asking my parents why we go to church and if they really believed that this God person existed.

I try and keep myself away from religon , it usually just brings up memories of a time earlier in my life when I diden't have to question anything. I simply lived though the experiences of those around me. A time of blissful ignorance that i believe we all long to go back too. But as i think about it more i cannot find a reason why i would want to go back to that time. Even if i did enjoy that time , it was out of ignorance of the world, and i dont think i could intentionally lower myself to that anymore. Its not an issue of pride, i just do not think i could stand for anything anymore if i was to lower myself down anymore.