lassú víz

my bag keeps being untidy after the fivehundreth time of tidying it.
my hair looks crap three days after visiting the hairdresser's.
I'm complitely bored and frustrated by school and everyone I bump into
in that segment of the town.
I spill my be alright pills all over the escalator, then hear my heart throbbing, then almost brust into crying, then pretend as if nothing had happened, then turn straight back, and skip school well into the s e c o n d week of it.
and then light a cigerette, that doesn't even taste ok because my vocal chords are still screaming, but I just won't care because what else should I do instead.
then feel like shouting and so angry I could smash things while waiting for the bus to take me back where I came from.
all my journeys in vain.
then I don't exactly feel sleepy but sleeping is the only thing I don't make any fuss with.
so, let's sleep.

-'don't sit in the dark'
-'you have any other suggestion as to what I should do instead?'
(silence)

the things I should be into leave me totally uninterested
I feel nagged whenever I have to meet people - feels like I'm running out of time to do my own stuff, that kind of stuff that doesn't involve others and lacks thinking and making efforts.
I'm stirred by meeting people. I was about to be totally whacked when people started hanging around me, and though I like them a lot, still they keep harassing me with their mere presence for some reason.
maybe because they're neither parents or siblings to me, and that's exactly what I'm missing and will be missing forever.

and I find no way to fight the obsessions, to restrict the compulsions, to control the whole thing; c o n t r o l is the spark of that celestial fire;
my overflowing, watery-wet nature keeps washing it away, I'll never start any fire

'she can take care of herself' said a girl's boyfriend whom I want to believe but whom I think a bit blind. everonye's quite blind when it comes to me, and it's not their fault, unfortunately.
the thing's pretty terrifying as I really want to live up to the expectations every single time someone made a nice remark about about me.
shame on me for being a narcissist. for wanting to be adored. people usually have to deserve that.

and my mum stole my xanax.
now, she thinks I haven't noticed.