●●● Cherry Life ●●●

You're lost, little girl

"Come to me, little girl......" I heard whisper. I heard it before, but when I look there's no one. "Come out to play..... you're just a little girl, wanna come and play.......?"

The voice. It's always here. Always near. I've heard it my whole life, ever since I was just a little girl. It even is in my dreams and it always says the same.... "Come to me, little girl... Come out to play...."
But today it said something more. "Come out.... Come and play with me outside..... Come out, let's play hide and seek......."

So I am outside. A skinny, dark girl in the cold, white snow. Which way to choose? Behind me the old, creepy mansion I used to call home. In front of me the darkness, the nothing. Sentences of forgotten poems come in my mind: "....Stay in the sun, where you are safe....Don't try to be brave...." I shiver, but it doesn't leave me alone: ".....If you search for us, it will be the last you ever do. You'll disappear, and that will be the last that's heard of you....." 

I turn away from the darkness and look to what's on my right....

On my right there's the old spooky church, on my left the old graveyard with the broken stones and long-forgotten persons.

"Come on, sweet, little girl, and meet me by the trees..... For I will fullfill your biggest dreams....."

The trees. Two old trees, that have been there since the first of mankind came here, in the middle of the graveyard. I smiled and entered the graveyard. Above the grave it read: 'Crimson tears, frozen in time'. Mist came up and made me not see the graves anymore. Only the trees I could still see. A wolf howled towards the full moon, as I walked the path towards the trees. I hear some strange noises, as if someone was moving the gravestones. "Come to me, little girl, we both know you want to play...."

And then I saw him, standing in the shadows of the trees. A dark figure, as if he was a phantom of the night. When he saw me, he smiled, and reached his hand out for mine. "Hello, little girl..." he said. He didn't move his lips, but I could him as clear as if he'd have spoken aloud.

"Hello to you too, stranger," I answered. "So, who are you?" He was atracting me more and more, like he was putting a spell on me. "I just am," he said. "I am the past and everlasting. Dark are my intentions. More the darkness of immortality in my kind....."

"Why did you bring her here?" another voice asked. "You know the rules: don't touch her...." "Hello, Frank," the first one replied.

I turned to see who the new person was. It was my older brother, Frankie. "Hey, little sis...." he said. "Ain't you glad to see me?" He smiled sadly. "Suprised, right?" I nodded. "I have expected that. After all, you saw me die......"

Originally, a My Chemical Romance fanfic...

Another story from my depressed period. Although, this is depressed feelings mixed up with anger. As yet untitled, which will not be a suprise when you read the story. But you should judge for yourself, so try to enjoy reading.

{The Queen}

There is always a reason - a motive- as to why people act a certain way.
I have my own reasons as to why I am the way I am. But those reasons are mine and mine alone. A prying finger that belongs to anybody but my friends is not welcome.
There are many regrets left unsaid; like hushed little whispers at the back of my mind.
I feel the pain, but feel no shame. Because everything I did ultimately led to an outcome I planned far in advance. Or at least that’s what I tell myself; repeating it over and over in my mind; a silent mantra.
For if I do not doubt will wrap its ravenous tendrils around me. And the second I grant the footprints of shame solid ground, everything will be lost.
My security is built around certainty and it will forever stay that way.

Why are you looking at me, as if you can give me solid ground?

Don't even fucking bother trying. It won't work! My whole life, my footsteps've turned me down. One by one.

And I certainly don't need free advice. Go baby someone else. Don't talk to me as if I'm a little girl you just can tell what's right and what's wrong.

Remember how you wanted to be friends with them, back then? You got so close to being one of them. Now that's quite a nightmare. You got yourself other friends, didn't you? Didn't work out very well either, did it? I thought so. You've finally learned it, haven't you? Friendship means nothing. It's an excuse for people to screw each other over and over.

No reason to try to make things better. Really, that only makes things worse. They will accept you, and well, you know you don't really want to be one of them. You don't want to conform and act like you're completely braindead. You're too good for that. They certainly won't let that happen without trying to stop you. They will do whatever it takes to protect their little vacum of idiocy. And that means, you will have to do equal things to protect yourself.
So, it might turn out it's necessary to draw people's attention to yourself. Why? Because otherwise they'll assume you agree with everything when you do not. Haven't you noticed how they always seem not to notice you when you comment something they did? Exactly. So, fuck them, fuck every stupid rule, every single person who told you it's impolite to interfere, every single morron who said it only works against you. They already hate you, so lets say it to the point; it won't make any difference.

You know how they play this little 'game' of them, don't you? They'll always change the rules when it's your turn. And then, they'll watch you burn and laugh. Funny, isn't it? Oh yes, I'm laughing so hard I'm almost crying, but only because I've never heard so much idiocy from someone who ough to know better than that.

Why don't you want to see? It only makes you miserable. You don't make the situation any more bearable by closing your eyes for it.

It's no wonder you feel so tired of it all, and that you feel like you don't know anymore what's right and what's wrong. But, you need to gather just a little more courage. Fight on. That's what you've done for over four years now. It won't be long anymore, now. Just one and a half year, and you'll be free. You won't see them ever again if you chose so. And well, I don't doubt that you will chose for that indeed.

We all know the last part is the hardest. But, that's no reason to give up, lose courage and just generally spend your time trying not to die. You feel empty, don't you? As if your heart is frozen, and with that... your love for everything. For study, for people, for talking. All you do now is hiding, escaping, searching for the perfect hideaway. You're just making it harder for yourself, but making it easier for everyone else. Making it easier for me. Because, you've always surpressed me. You never allowed me to reach the surface. Why don't you embrace me. I'm a part of you, after all. Your... so-called dark side, I guess. But that's no reason to turn away from me. Without me, you won't survive here. Especially not now.

Because, your fears are getting worse and worse. Your sadness and the uncomfortableness that makes you avoid most company, stops you from being yourself. From creating a 'healthy' balans between your sweet 'good' side, and your dark side. Yin and Yang. Because, they're certainly not in balance now.

Say that you like them, one last time. Say that you don't mind when you do mind, for just one fucking last time. One last time. The last of many lies. Because, it makes no one happier if you say these things. It doesn't make them happier; it only makes them use you. And it certainly doesn't make you happier. One last lie, and then perhaps you can leave this place. Even if it's just in your mind, you won't have to be there. Then you can escape.

They can hurt but won't kill me.

What a drag it is, the state I'm in. A miserable little creature, afraid of her own shadow! It's pathetic. And why? Because they're not nice to me. Aww... isn't that cute..? This little goth girl is afraid of the big mean barbie dolls and action man dolls. How pathetic.

And you can't leave. You're too stubborn for that.

It's pathetic. You feel so empty, so dead. You know what makes you feel this, and yet you do nothing about it. Do really think you are someone?! Fool. You're nothing. Dust. You're just as pitious and empty as they are. Are you gonna cry now?! Why, because I'm not nice. Face it, hun. The world is not nice. So you can crumble and hide in some dark corner as if you're afraid for the light, claiming that the world is nice, or you can stand up, and fight. For yourself.

You're the one who has to chose. Now hurry up, you haven't got the rest of your life to decide.

Honey, you're an emotional wreck. Do you even know who you are anymore? Do you ever say what you mean? Why are you able to write these things, to think them, when you are not able to put them into practice, to do what you have longed for so long? To say the things that haunt your mind?

And of course, you'd love to be somewhere else. You're not. Deal.

One thing, dear, stop sounding like some shrink.

Don't be so self-occupied. Do you really think they think about you whole day. C'mon princess airhead, you're not that interesting. Become someone and then perhaps someone will give a shit.

Don't crumble, don't act like a little kid which needs her mommy to tell her everything is alright and that there is no monster under her bed. Face it, hun, there is a monster. And believe me, it's nothing, compared to what you have to deal with. If you could just see what they really are.

Vampires, zombies, undead, living dead, monsters. Call them whatever you like. That's up to you. As long as you realize they're dead.

Basically, they're just corpses walking around. Now, isn't that a good explanation why most idiot girls douce themselves with (awful smelling) perfume?

Don't expect any sympathy from them. At all. They're dead, they have no feelings. Well, that doesn't make much difference wih them when they were alive, does it?

Of course vampires are in fact more like you than humans. But... these 'people', in fact they're vampires. They don't feed on blood, they feed on your emotions. They love to just sence your pain and anger. Why do you think you feel so drained lately? C'mon dear, you've been their 'doner' for quite some time now. You know that. You really did. You knew all along. You started feeling so uncomfortable around 'people'. Do you really think that has nothing to do with it? Little fool.... Why don't you just open your eyes and face reality?! 

Perhaps, vampires is a bit strong. Perhaps it's more like, parasites. But in any way, you can't let this go on this way.

You know what you have to do. Fight them. Kill them. Kill, or be killed.

It doesn't matter how you fight them. Just make sure no one finds out how exactly you do it. If you do things that are illegal, just make sure they don't find out. After all, what one doesn't know, doesn't hurt, right?

Dolls

Every rose has its thorns.

The man stroke my face with his index finger.
'You are very beautiful, girl, you know that?' he says
I say nothing, for I have no thoughts.
'You look' the man continues, 'like a porcelain doll.'
I am thoughtless like a doll.
'Now fuck me!' he suddenly commands, tugging my hair.
'Yes, sir,' I obey thoughtless.

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Who was I? I was no one.
Who am I? I am no one, a beautiful fairytale-like creature without a soul, dead.
A porcelain doll; clothed in silk and satin, covered with jewels to disguise that that is all there is.
I am a dead bride; a virgin queen, ruling but myself.
Still; no matter how many times I times I got raped; never mind how many I have sold my body to; I'm still a virgin.

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Time.... time means nothing. An indivation of how long before the creator makes his final visit.
It only passes by, because - dolls can't die.
That's why I can't kill myself.
I am broken, damaged beyond repair, but I can't destroy myself.
Only human hands can - they can not create, just destroy.
'Please throw me in the fire,' I'd scream if I could, but I can't without a voice, and they can never understand.
I am just a doll.

Nothing more.

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A pale skin, a dress - black - made of satin. Blue lips, blue hair, hazel eyes.
So no one can love me, for I'm a scary doll.
I frighten them, humans, cuz there's no emotion behind my porcelain-made eyes; there's nothing.
I follow them with a dead stare, my eyes unmoving as they walk around.
I can't see them, yet I know they're there.

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They remove my clothes, stroke me, hit me; whatever they want.
And I'm just there, and feel - know - nothing.
I can never understand these human beings; loving their wives and husbands and yet picking up these young nymphs - both male and female - who wander on the streets of shame.
All these young boys and girls; Nabokov's nymphets, dressing all the same; ageless dolls - time does not dare to touch - with porcelain white skins.
Angels - creatures of grace and beauty; born from the wrong womb.
Many angels leave their life in this hell.
'Come touch me,' our lips whisper tenderly - as to whisper a heavenly requim.
'We're young and not expensive.'
We'll never be; yet we're not <cheap>, never will be either.
Many pass us, look at us; our bodies and slim appearance; admire our beauty - as young children in a toy shop.

We are for anyone to buy, and with every time we sold ourselves we sold our soul, till there was nothing left.
Perfect dolls, wishing for the fire.
Praying an eternal deathwish.

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