Hell

Because that’s what’s in my heart. 
I remember last year being in the backyard with my mother. We lifted up this sheet of plywood that had been lying on the grass all winter. Underneath where thousands of worms, beetles and a snake, all either eating or being eaten, and that is my heart and the hate and the insects grow and grow blacker by the hour. I want to kill the killers, and I just can’t believe that this would be a sin. 

My best friend described the blood and water pooling on the linoleum floor, coating it like Varathane. She told me about the track marks left in blood by running shoes, by bare feet and by bodies either dragging themselves or being dragged by friends. There is something else she’s not telling me (I know it) but what could be more horrible then.. Oh God, this is not a prayer. 

I know that faith is not the natural condition of the human heart, but why do you make it so hard to have faith? You raise the cost of faith and You dilute its plausibility. Is that smart? 
I’m out of prayers, so that just leaves talking. It’s hard for me to believe other people are feeling as intensely as I do. But the if we’re all as fucked up as I am, that scares me into thinking that the world’s all going to go to pieces, and what sort of world would that be? A zoo. 

I keep to myself mostly. I can’t sleep or eat. TV is fucking lame. I swallowed a million pills and it wasn’t a good idea. I walk around in a daze and it’s like the opposite of drugs, because drugs are supposed to make you feel good, but this only makes me feel like shit. 
I was walking around the mall and suddenly I started hitting myself in the head because I thought I could bash away the feelings. And the thing is, everybody in the mall looked as if they knew what I was doing and no one cared. 

“God is nowhere.” 

I know the right answers but it’s hard letting go when you’ve spent so much time and energy making it what IT is. 
A memory is the mental ability of retaining and recalling past experience. 
But what if you’re tired of remembering? There is no solution but I’d like to make one.. instead there is only forgetting through more memories until you’ve drowned yourself in reality over and over again. 

To be dead inside means lacking feeling or sensitivity; numb or unresponsive. I could take the easy way out and give up but FUCK YOU because I’m not going to shut my mouth or turn away because this is my life and no one else is going to ruin it. The fast few weeks have been filled with 5 murderers. Those people have tried to murder me.. but it’s that easy.. 

I just want you to remember. - Jeffree