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matrixrefugee...But I *did* get a Christmas LJ icon. I wanted a Nativity scene, but I couldn't seem to find one... But, I've got a shot from "It's a Wonderful Life", by "tiggrrr007", instead.
I'm very sorry, but I'm afraid I can't get into it the way I usually can. Everything is just driving me slowly mad with depression... I can't seem to get my mother to understand what the hell I'm going through, even though I've explained it a thousand times. No amount of medication can cure love-sickness. There's only one thing that can and it doesn't come in tablet form.
There's one thing that I want. One thing. Release from this. Either through love or through death. Mort ou le petite mort. And both are denied to me for some reason.
I think God is keeping me alive just to torment me. I don't think he cares about me any more. I don't know why. I pray. I go to Mass. I do all the things I should. But he doesn't listen to me when I scream out to him for mercy and for release. Either that or I'm already dead and I'm in hell, and that's why he can't hear me.
God, if you really care about me, you'll either take me out of this, or give me that one thing which every fibre of my being screams out for. Why do you let me go through this? why do I have to have my face rubbed in the fact that I don't have a man to love and who loves me? Why do I have to compete with thousands of other women who are better-looking than I am, and now, on top of that, with other males?!
Just kill me and get it over with. I don't know why you made me, but why couldn't I have died of that hernia when I was a baby, or died when that car hit me three years ago? Aren't you finished tormenting me?! What did I do to deserve this?! I just live. I just want to love.
All right, I'll spell it out to you:
I met the man I almost married, at Christmas seven years ago. We got engaged the following Christmas. The Christmas after that, I'd broken up with him in August, after coming within inches of marrying him. Now, I've gotten over him, I've gotten over the relationship, but I haven't gotten over the fact that here I am, seven years later, no closer to what I wanted, and probably further from it since I'm in so much pain.
I'm very sorry, but I'm afraid I can't get into it the way I usually can. Everything is just driving me slowly mad with depression... I can't seem to get my mother to understand what the hell I'm going through, even though I've explained it a thousand times. No amount of medication can cure love-sickness. There's only one thing that can and it doesn't come in tablet form.
There's one thing that I want. One thing. Release from this. Either through love or through death. Mort ou le petite mort. And both are denied to me for some reason.
I think God is keeping me alive just to torment me. I don't think he cares about me any more. I don't know why. I pray. I go to Mass. I do all the things I should. But he doesn't listen to me when I scream out to him for mercy and for release. Either that or I'm already dead and I'm in hell, and that's why he can't hear me.
God, if you really care about me, you'll either take me out of this, or give me that one thing which every fibre of my being screams out for. Why do you let me go through this? why do I have to have my face rubbed in the fact that I don't have a man to love and who loves me? Why do I have to compete with thousands of other women who are better-looking than I am, and now, on top of that, with other males?!
Just kill me and get it over with. I don't know why you made me, but why couldn't I have died of that hernia when I was a baby, or died when that car hit me three years ago? Aren't you finished tormenting me?! What did I do to deserve this?! I just live. I just want to love.
All right, I'll spell it out to you:
I met the man I almost married, at Christmas seven years ago. We got engaged the following Christmas. The Christmas after that, I'd broken up with him in August, after coming within inches of marrying him. Now, I've gotten over him, I've gotten over the relationship, but I haven't gotten over the fact that here I am, seven years later, no closer to what I wanted, and probably further from it since I'm in so much pain.