What the...?

What if....

What if everyday I ask myself and wonder, how much would it hurt -or maybe kill- if I'll break the block on schools windows, and jump.
Then there's few options.
I can get damaged, and break my leg or arm.
I can die, because I'll fall in a dangerous way, like falling isn't dangerous enough.
I can stay alive harmlessly, because I'll fall on my legs like in some Asian anime. 

And what if I count the ways for suicide.
Taking too many pills.
Taking a medicine when I'm not ill.
Drinking soaped water.
Eating hornet.
Running with razor necklace.
Bang my head with a hammer.
Endless ways, with so many creativity in each one.
Such a shame I can't use any of them.
Such a shame... 

And what if I hate everyone I see, and the ones I don't, doesn't like me at all.
I can't kill them.
Because one reason, it's illegal.
I won't fake my feelings for them.
They doesn't worth my mask.

So what if I can't take this anymore, but I don't have another options?


Today I thought about those words all the time.
Remembered them flawlessly.
I was really pissed.
Like every else day, I'm living on this awful planet.
It could be better, but it'll take worse.

To feel happiness and appreciate it, you have to feel the worst of the opposite of happiness.
Then you'll can feel happiness better.

For tomorrow I have a mission, I failed.
It's to write a song.
Easy? sounds like.
Easy it's a word in English, for me it's easier to write songs in English.
But I have (I think) on Hebrew, but anyway, whenever I'll write something, I'll probably petting teal bunnies with bear ears, and sit on an airplane wing, wearing a strapless white dress so it won't disturb my angel wings, although I'm with angel wings I have devil horns, My rabbit have also angel wings but not horns.
And why I'll have this beautiful thing?
Because I'll be on relaxing drugs because I'm in a therapist, because my words are suicide-ish.


So Every-freaking-one thought it's time to educate me.
And this education were so I'll invite bully-bitch to my slumber party.
I DON'T WANT HER.
My mom made me to do it, so I had to text her that I'm inviting her.
She won't come, and if she will (like that would happen) she won't pass my home doors.
Like shit will happen with this situation.

*minute passing*

Oh my gosh, shit just happened.
SHE FUCKING TEXTED ME BACK.
She wrote "Sorry I've hurt you, thank you for the invitation..."
Bitch you're not coming.
You've gotta understand what I feel.

Bully hurt all my friends.
Bully think it's funny.
Friends forgive.
I won't.

THE FUCKING END.

So right now I'm excited (I still think I'm bipolar) because the amazing MY CHEMICAL ROMANCE will be in some artist so I'm going to hear this artist so I could get used to his voice.
So bye guys I have missions!

To not pop out from my body.

To finish my book (page 130-160)

To hear the voice.