why should i be sad? because everything has been so beautiful lately. as cliched as it is, that is what makes me sad. beauty. all is beauty. the blood, it's the beauty.

beautiful things make me sad, and that sadness is beautiful.

one would think i'd be happy, what with all these beautiful things surrounding me.

i'm sick of my constant contradictions.

i'm sick of not being able to stick with things, of not being able to explain myself.

i'm sick of not being able to get my hands on a gun.

you see, to me, all needs to be aesthetically pleasing. something that makes a pretty picture. and somehow, me draped over my piano, with my brains splattered on the keys seems as though it would be the prettiest picture one could ever see. i fantasise about it perhaps more than i should.

my dad coming into my room one morning to wake me up. me lying on the floor, in a crucifix type postition with blood everwhere. a note by my side saying "dad - take a picture before they take the body away. get it blown up, framed and have it as a centre piece at my funeral."

dad waking up one morning, walking into the kitchen to find me hanging naked from the ceiling board thing with "Art." written in black on my stomach.

on a friday assembly at school, having told everyone i was going to be doing some kind of performance (a song, or dance etc.) they introduce me. i walk on stage, gun in hand, and shoot myself.

inviting alex over one day for a game of chess. ingesting a bottle or so of sleeping pills before he gets here. when he arrives, act (as well as i can) that nothing is wrong. eventually, i die..while he's sitting across the table.

so many ways in which i could do it, and they would all be beautiful. but theonly one i truly wish for, is the gun and piano scenario. of course, i am faced with the problem of acquiring this said gun. although, i dohavean ideaof howitmaybepossible. whetherornot thisperson (being a friend of myne) would give it to me is another question.

but hey,it's alright. weak little shit will never get around to it. don't worry..i'll still be here next weekto give you advice, help you through your little problems, providing drugs and lots of laughs to keep you happy, all dressed up in my second hand best so you can all think how cool you are to have a friend who is "alternative". i'll still be here so you can claim you talk to me every other night. still be here so you can claim me as your own. still be here for all the girls to look up to, give them something to strive to be. inspire them. i'll still be here to listen to all your shit, to give you praise when it's deserved (and more than likely when it's not), to make sure your ego never deflates. i'll still be here to give you compliments with meaning. i'll still be giving you hugs like no one else does. i'll still be there to laugh with you. i'll sill be there to cry on. i'll still provide something constant in your life, something never changing. i'll still be there so you can laugh at jess and her funny idea's and odd way of percieving things. i'll still be there to tell you that i'm fine.

but that doesn't mean i want to be.

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