Category : Diary/Journal

Sub Category : N/A

Gathered around the atmosphere of my mind. Evilly threatening my somewhat frail mind with the flashbacks they know they have placed there. My mind is a jigsaw to them- they wish to place the foul feelings of self-hatred in my mind while having fun doing so. It's really a paradox. I don't have fun when they do. I get to live with this jigsaw in my head while they prance around with pride of putting it there. Why? I cannot live with the suspense of having another piece violently smudged into my head and they know it. It is their tenacity that endows me with the grief they want me to have circulating me as though it was the blood pumping into my veins. All I want to know is why? Why must I be their jigsaw when they can actually but their own jigsaw? I mean, I myself am a person who expresses my hurt by saying so. I snap. However, why is that? It is because my mind is a jigsaw to them and nothing else and I dread to find out how big the pieces and overall size of this dreadful puzzle will turn out to be...