The Tape: Unheard Lyrics Are The Loudest, Side A

I love the way you scream.  How your blood seeps into my skin. I truly hope that this moment never ends. Can you see how this may excite me? How this has been a dream come true? 

I bet you are scared aren’t you? Don’t lie now, I can see the fear in your eyes. Want me to tell you a story? About how I got I got these scars in my wrist? About how, for awhile, I couldn’t think past the bullet jn my head. I can tell it to you darling.  Let you see the true me. Just know though, I am telling you this cause you will never have the chance to tell anyone else. Cause I am going to kill you. Oh no don’t shake your head and cry more. You knew this was going to happen. You knew that this was result of your very own actions. 

Where to begin…

Oh yes…

See, my name is Hannah.

….to be continued…

Bleed in thy name

An often cliche question right before one dies

“Where is God”

The devote Christian cries.

Before the trigger is pulled

And brain matter is allowed to splatter 

A question is asked

Though the answer doesn’t matter.

As they run place to place

A students blood freash on thier face

They ask a question 

Though they don’t truly care

A cliched question

A poetic end

“Where is God

The supposed Saviour to us all?”

Only a bullet wound 

is the respected response. 

I was reading an article on facebook (I am cheap and will not buy a news paper) and saw that there was a school shooting. Actually, there where multiple school shootings. In some people died while in others people where badly wounded. Still someone suffered in the end. 

I know Christians who want to kill themselves.  Despite it being a sin in their religion, they want to end it. I am not saying religion is a hoax due to that. It helps so many people; but it is not a save all heal all thing. Same can be said for those who do not believe in the idea of religion. 
The thing I am getting at is everyone suffers. Everyone experiences some sort of pain. Yet the one question many of us ask ourselves during this time is is there a God. If we believe or not he does come up. It is ingrained into many of our societies that he is real, so when feeling depressed is often hard to not think of him….or her….or them. 

So the cliche of the day before the trigger is pulled

        “Where is God?”

Not My Problem

Do not judge me

I gave up 

I become what they wanted

A body covered in cuts.

We are told that suicide is wrong. That is it the failures way out. I once read a story where of someone attempted suicide they where shipped to an island with other people who failed. There there were no rules and they could either try again or live how they pleased. 

Their records were deleted and their families told they died. I am not sure how the goverment in this book got away with not having to show the body, but they did. 

So on this small island some people did decide to take their lives while other vowed to keep going. 

It was a strange story. As you may assume all hell broke lose until rules were in place. Rape, murder, theft, just your basic chaos happened till they devised their own goverment of sorts. 

Not going to lie, I didn’t get that far into this series. Once I was assured people would try to find some meaning to life I stopped. 

Interesting that this is the part I stopped at. I guess I could have read on once the more darker stuff had passed….but I didn’t.  

I have read two variations to this story. One was a manga and they other a adult novel. Both times I stopped reading once life reached some sort of order. 

I don’t delude myself into thinking it would be perfect. Instead I choose to never give it a chance. I didn’t try to see if it would get better because what was right in front of me only seemed to be getting worse. 

In these books order was found but I just knew that it would change quickly. I knew that someone would grow bored of that life and try to start problems again. What else can happen when you put a bunch of emotional people in the same room. Even if everyone is getting along there will always be that one person who craves chaos. Who has this hidden bloodlust that they can’t get rid off. 
So I stop.

I stop reading and instead give up on the series. I see the dark past and have an understanding of the future. I expect change but it is not the change I believe can help me. 

People might think I am strange for that. They might tell me that I need to stick around and let the story finish. That giving up before I can truly reach the ending it not giving the author credit. But I, as the reader, hold all the power. 

In a story filled with violence, I can choose when it will end. 
So when people look to suicide I do not see what they see. They find a failure, a victem, I see a person who took their life into their own hands. Yes they have left so much behind but they are finally free…at least…that is what they think. 
Now despite this understanding I do not believe that peoppe should harm themselves. I do believe that people should preserve. Giving up on a silly book is easy, but giving in to life is a whole other story. 

We readers hold the power. Our story may be filled with pain. We may not hold all the answers on how it could change. We may not be alone in our suffering. We could be sitting on an island surrounded by people who hate just like us. Emotional husk, beings left to rot. We may have tried to end our lives in the past and have it being held against us but we still hold the power. 

Change may not happen fast enough. Somewhere along the lines there will be thay one person trying to fuck it all up. But we, dear reader, will try our hardest to go on. Not just for ourselves but for those around us who also need a reason to go on. 

Do not ever think you are alone. Do not ever think that you are not worth it. We may not have the lives of writers but as readers we are still so very strong. So very very important. Because without us there is no them. Without us they world would be an even more crueler place.
I understand death. 

I understand wanting to shut the book and call it a day. 

I understand giving up.

I understand it all. 

Without those who suffer this world would not understand.
But fuck me !it isn’t fair! It isn’t fair that people must feel pain so the rest of the world can learn something called empathy and understanding. 
I once read a story where people were forced to live on an island after they tried to kill themselves. Their loved ones were told theu succeeded. Some were probably forgotten whole other remembered often. On this island people died, people were raped, people suffered. Forced to live a life they didn’t want just so they could teach others a lesson. 

It isn’t fair at all. 

I stopped reading that book once things started going good. I didn’t want to see people come along and try to break what was once broken. I didn’t want to see as they healed from their wounds and try again. I didn’t want to see them be happy, for others to try stop them. 

Instead I focused in them surviving. 

Cause in the end…no matter what they decided..they did all they could to make their life theres. 
How unfair is that? 

Just Saying: The Story Of A School Shooter. 

CW
This is not a poem but instead the ramblings of someone who has had enough. I remember once in high school, I was sitting at my desk when a girl turned to me. She had the most disgusted yet curious look upon her face. I had never really spoken to her before outside of a few hellos and “Here pass this up”, but today she decided to hold a conversation. 

Apparently I reminded her of the type of person that was capable of killing people. It was due to the people I hung out with and the fact that I always looked sad. She then told me that if I had plans to shoot up the school that she rather I not kill her and try to clean up after myself. Basically to shoot people but remember to kill myself afterwards.  She then turned to her friend who in turn stated asked me why I waited, that I should just skip the dramatics and kill myself when I got home. That way they didn’t have to deal with me anymore. 

It was always funny how one was telling to hurt people and then myself yet the other was just like ‘Don’t hurt people we prefer you just off yourself’.

It hurt, of course, it hurt bad. I had never spoken to these girls before and after that moment they proceeded to make my life hell for a few months. 

I had a certain ‘look’ to them and yet they still bullied me. 

I did not harm anyone in that school. Until that moment, I had zero plans to. After awhile I begin to hate people and truly wish I had the balls to destory everyone. 

I love how everyone says that it gets better once school is over. That those four years won’t matter when you are an adult. You will look back on that life and be proud of what you have overcome. The pain you endured that made you stronger. 

That is a fucking lie and we all know it. To some high school was the golden years. To others it was a constant reminder of just how much of a failure they are. Some people raise up and become better while some are still treated like shit. I am one of those that is still treated like shit. One of the kids who had the ‘look’ and still amounted to nothing as they aged. 

Friends are better made online. People are never to be trusted. I may not have destroyed my school or killed myself as they suggested that day. But each day I live is only a punishment for myself. They moved on to better things. A good college and career. Some are even marrued with beautiful children in a wonderful home they own. Some died but are remembered as these amazing people. I am sure that at least one person struggles but they don’t show it. No, they show how good they have it. 

I am the type to feed off of their painand suffering. When their facade melts away I am the one person there to view it. There pain brings me pleasure. Yet I still suffer alone. Every day I continue to live a life I want to end. I always made up some sort of excuse to stay alive.

Currently I only have one and even that is starting to get old. My few pleasures in life are just sitting and watching others crash and burn. 

To be honest…I wonder what would have happened had I taken her suggestion. Had I blown that school to shit with everyone in it. Would it have made life easier? If I wasn’t caught I bet it would have. If I had instead decided to kill myself as well. Taken everyone out with me. Or what if I had just sat there in my home alone and finally slit my wrist. Maybe took a pill  jumped off a bridge. I thought about going some place exotic and getting lost or going on a boat and jumping off in deep water. Watch as people frantically tired to get me out. Slitting my wrist sounds good but lacks the same flair. Unless I was able to watch through the haze as my father stood over me in shock. I would love to see him show the world just how much he hates me one day. 

My whole life is a mistake and  I am forced to live it. I want to die but can’t. Just stuck in this eternal high school mentality that I will never amount to anything and nothing in life is proving different. 

There are times where I wish I could have been a school shooter. Maybe everything would have turned out ok.