If i could sleep forever, would you still be in my dreams?

Hello,

Sooooo back to uni n all that. Going out with folks tonight for mad drinking and then heading home tomorrow for Rhodesy's 21st. Anywho, look at this, i found it a few weeks ago and steve has inspired me to publish it here.... dunno why. I wrote it when i was like 14, and it's incredibly depressing, this is what i meant about hating and missing the person i used to be all at the same time:

To be honest, I think crazy is the calmest place to be. Expectations mean nothing, rules, nothing, limits, nothing. You can be who you want to be and the thrill of dealing with the disapproval of people is part of the fun. I love to be despised, I love the cold harsh coming home that I get when I realise that someone else disapproves, someone else despises, and someone else can’t handle the intense complexity that is your no mans land of a mind. People can be so cold, but colds how I like them, brutal, make your life hell, give you something to dwell on, something to be depressed about. Something to aim for, hating, killing in your head, throbbing pain aimed at others, but mainly at yourself. A pure unrivalled hatred for yourself, fuelled by the hatred provided by others. That kind of black, that kind of dark, that gloom that means you’re in that place, that place which welcomes you fully with it’s cold, dark, engulfing arms. That self hatred which takes little to set off but surrounds you for days, weeks and months. That overwhelming self doubt, paranoia and despair which can’t be avoided, welcome you back home safely to the chambers of the most dangerous thing in the world, yourself. And then you feel death, then you feel the emptiness, then you feel the chill. There is nothing but nothing, and no one but yourself. You repress, regress, regret. Hope is a long lost memory, you lost all hope last time it grabbed you, engulfed you, sucked you into its misery. The dejection hurts at first, but only at first, then it gets good. The anguish subsides and all that is left is nothing, nothing at all, you’re bouncing around in this empty shell after one big ole dose of suicidal medicine. Tired of the loathing, the hatred, the despondency, the desolation. Tired of breathing, living. You gave up on hope long ago, you gave up on prospect and chance, all that you know is black, all that you know is dark. Down and Troubled from A through Z. You feel the warmth near the end of the ride, finally the bitter, dark tunnel ends, you see light, you see hope again, you see dreams and colours and angels. But you’re quickly brought back down the cold desolate dystopia which is your mind by the soaring electricity surging through your chest. Surging with an immense power than fixes every bone, every nerve, every inch tingling in the raw elation that is agony, but you love it. You soak it in, every last little strand of shock, praying for it never to end.

Anywho,

That is all.

Katie x