Painting With Bloody Emotions

Oh how Lovely! My walls are red once again thanks to your brains being sprayed all over again. Oh well. What can we do? Reality is a horrid place I hate to visit, where dreams are dead, and the ones who you think love you most don't give a damn about you. Where what you want is as close as possible and yet the farthest thing from ever being yours. I can't fucking stand reality. Imagination is a better place. Where murder is deserved by those I see fit. Where all anger can just be relieved all with torture. For example there is no greater joy than taking that razor and instead of hurting myself, pressing it into his eye over and over and over! Oh, the audacity! I could even use this knife as my paintbrush if I wanted, and his body my everlasting canvas, carving things left and right. Ooooh! Yay, I drew the horizon. Now let's make a tree, cut here and here don't forget to dig in really deep. "Stop this you monster!
Oh, I'm sorry sir does that hurt? You should have considered this before you hurt the wrong person! Pathetic, dying on the floor begging for life, where was this part of you when I was begging?! Huh! Answer me that!
"I'm Sorry..."
Fuck your sorry! You should've said that back when it meant something. Now back to drawing, I need to make one final mark, I think this piece of art just needs this knife directly into your skull! DIE! *Stab* DIE! *Stab*  Finally!  Geez I've been waiting for my chance to kill that useless fuck. Wasn't that so much fun Making the room all nice and bloody creating a painting. AHHH that felt amazing! See what imagination can do?

Forgotten

♪ I... hurt my...self today. To see if I still feel.... I.... focus on the pain.... the only thing that's real. I cut a hole... The old familiar sting... Everyone I know, goes away.... in the end. ♪

Waiting will be the death of me. Never giving up on someone for so long scars the soul too much. But it's okay. It won't matter. My existence doesn't seem to make any vast differences. Everyone could still live on. The world will rotate and time will pass regardless of if I breathe. That'd be one less person for the world to support. But I guess I can't leave this world just yet. I still have a lot of time to waste, trying to counteract the inevitable out of my own greed. Although greed isn't always bad. Everyone wants something they don't have. Just depends on what or who that is that makes greed good or evil. My eyes seem to grow colder every time I look into the mirror. Wrists get redder with every blink. Razor red to be exact. I don't exist. I can't. This can't be real, I can't be real. I have no effect on anything or anyone no matter what I do.
I guess this is where I dissappear.