4.48 Psychosis

Fuck you. Fuck you. Fuck you for rejecting me by never being there, fuck you for making me feel like shit about myself, fuck you for bleeding the fucking love and life out of me, fuck my father for fucking up my life for good and fuck my mother for not leaving him, but most of all, fuck you God for making me love a person who does not exist. FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU.

Sometimes I turn around and catch the smell of you and I cannot go on I cannot fucking go on without expressing this terrible so fucking awful physical aching fucking longing I have for you. And I cannot believe that I can feel this for you and you feel nothing. Do you feel nothing?

They will love me for that which destroys me.

You’ll be all right. You’re strong. I know you’ll be okay because I like you and you can’t like someone who doesn’t like themself. The people I fear for are the ones who I don’t like because they hate themselves so much they won’t let anyone else like them either. But I do like you. I’ll miss you. And I know you’ll be okay.

Have you made any plans? Take an overdose, slash my wrists then hang myself. All those things together? It couldn't possibly be misconstrued as a cry for help.

Of course I loved you, you saved my life. I wish you hadn’t I wish you hadn’t I wish you’d left me alone.

Embrace beautiful lies - the chronic insanity of the sane

- I won't be able to think. I won't be able to work. - Nothing will interfere with your work like suicide. (Silence) - I dreamt that I went to the doctor's and she gave me eight minutes to live. I'd been sitting in the fucking waiting room for half an hour. (A long silence) - Okay, let's do it, let's do the drugs, let's do the chemical lobotomy, let's shut down the higher functions of my brain and perhaps I'll be a bit more fucking capable of living. Let's do it.

Built to be lonely to love the absent. Find me Free me from this corrosive doubt futile despair horror in repose. I can fill my space fill my time but nothing can fill this void in my heart.

It is myself I have never met, whose face is pasted on the underside of my mind.

I dread the loss of her I've never touched love keeps me a slave in a cage of tears I gnaw my tongue with which to her I can never speak I miss a woman who was never born I kiss a woman across the years that say we shall never meet Everything passes Everything perishes Everything palls my thought walks away with a killing smile leaving discordant anxiety which roars in my soul No hope No hope No hope No hope No hope No hope No hope

I’m tired of my life and my mind wants to die.

I hope you never understand, because I like you. I like you, I like you.

But you have friends. You have a lot of friends. What do you offer your friends to make them so supportave. What do you offer your friends to make them so supportave what do you offer. " ...if I could remember any more of my lines I'd add them so basically this is a preface to the whole play. I would like to quote the whole play. Currently my mind is afraid to remember the play.

Please. Don’t switch off my mind by attempting to straighten me out. Listen and understand, and when you feel contempt don’t express it, at least not verbally, at least not to me.

the chicken's still dancing the chicken won't stop

I know. I’m angry because I understand, not because I don’t.

When depression visits I shall hang myself to the sound of my lover's breathing

(A very long silence.) - But you have friends. (A long silence.) You have a lot of friends. What do you offer your friends to make them so supportive? (A long silence.) What do you offer your friends to make them so supportive? (A long silence.) What do you offer? (Silence.) -----

the only thing that's permanent is destruction we're all going to disappear trying to leave a mark more permanent that myself.

I've never in my life had a problem giving another person what they want. But no one's ever been able to do that for me. No one touches me, no one gets near me. But now you've touched me somewhere so fucking deep I can't believe and I can't be that for you. Because I can't find you.

They will love me for that which destroys me the sword in my dreams the dust of my thoughts the sickness that breeds in the folds of my mind

I sing without hope on the boundary

I cannot touch my essential self.

But I am not here and never have been.

It is myself I have never met, whose face is pasted on the underside of my mind

A room of expressionless faces staring blankly at my pain, so devoid of meaning there must be evil intent.