Post by Logo (The Horrorshow Freak) on Apr 24, 2014 23:53:05 GMT
Have you ever sat down and wrote a suicide note? Have you ever sat and tried to remember the best moments in life? Try to have those happy memories? Try to make new ones? Can you?
I personally believe that for me I won't be able to. I fear that if I try no matter what it ends with a blade stained with blood and yet another scar on top of a scar on top of the original scar on my arm. I fear if I try to get close to anyone I will just end up a lonely heap on the floor, sobbing and staring again down the barrel of that gun.
Of course, this started happening probably after my first of many strings of long lasting relationships. I'm not knocking her or what she did, as to this day I still care for her, and by no means is this her fault, but simply a story to understand before you understand me.
In 6th grade I met this girl, (she won't be named) and I really knew something was good. Like the dick he is, my brother of course had to date her first, but after their 3 or 4 week relationship was over, I took matters into my own hands and practically begged her to date me. After about 3 hours of begging she agreed, and so started hell.
Don't get me wrong, she wasn't hell, what I did was hell. I started worrying more, over little things, like her waving at her friends or me getting depressed if she fell asleep really early. Why these things started happening I don't know, maybe the hormones of a 6th grader dating a 7th grader going through the roof or the fact that I was going through puberty at that time, but it stuck. I became that jealous boyfriend, (which eventually I had every right to be) as she went to her friends brothers house all the time. When she left me for the same person I was jealous of, I fell again. Whenever my great grandad died, I remember one moment where she said something that took a knife to my heart and etched "Fuck life" on it. She said, and I remember the exact quote, "Since me and you broke up, your life hasn't been.. Well.. The best."
For the rest of my middle school years and highschool I would remember that. I would sit and think about that. Of course the next week her and I dated, but that moment was etched in my heart.
Then fast forward, I run away, I try to get away from the terrors and horrors of this sick life, and I fail. Get called a freak, a "Maniac that needs to be in a mental hospital." The next day, I walk into school and see the girl that I had loved unconditionally for the past year, and she told me she cheated on me. Needless to say, that's the firsts time I took that knife to my arm and watched blood run to my fingertips. That was the spark.
After such bad luck, I go back to a 4th grade sweet heart, which we dated on and off all 4th and 5th grade year. After a 3 year (all together) relationship, she wanted to end it on my birthday. Spark number 2.
Now, I overlapped, during the 4th grade sweetheart, on our offs I dated this girl (not real name) named Krystal. She was perfect, because she, like me, wasn't perfect. She cut, she had suicidal thoughts, she was atheist. I loved every second with her, so much so, with 4th grade sweetheart I left her multiple times and for 6 month periods to date Krystal. She was beautiful, the one girl I loved more then any other. There is one other person (the Kim below) that I love more, but either way I would give anything to date her now. We dated altogether a full year, my longest relationship.
She was atheist, strongly, yet she had to go to church. I loved the fact that during church she would lean over and whisper "Fuck this bullshit." It made me want her more. Then, after a year, after a year and 5 months of knowing eachother, she told me she didn't feel right dating me for she said she was touched that night. I don't know how true that is or was, but I know that she told me she cheated on me too. That put the nail in the coffin. I looked down that barrel again, staring at the bullet that could take me out of this life. But I sat and I thought about it, and I realized, no. I realized how noone was there for me when that was happening, but I couldn't let anyone else suffer that feeling of lost, lonely, self loathing, to the point where I had cut my arm multiple times and couldn't feel a thing. I didn't feel the blade, I didn't feel the blood, I didn't feel the pain.
Just a day ago, I talked to Krystal. She told me she was Christian and had a boyfriend. I told her that was fake. I know because the true Krystal, no matter how "sad" she claimed to be she was happy to be alive every minute of it. Loved the sweet sound of music, and loved to write. The Christian Krystal didn't. She didn't feel anything. She says she's happy but there is no way in hell she is the same girl. Not in a good way. I told her her boyfriend deserves the fun awesome girl I got. They both told me off in a quickness, how she's Christian now and is better, though the fact of it is she's not. I want him to experience the fun girl I did. I tried to explain I wasn't trying anything with her. I guess I can be a good guy after all.
Then there is the fact I have fallen DEEPLY in love with this girl. The girl (again, not real name), Kim, lives in another state, I mean why out of state. It's hard to talk because of the 2 hour difference but eh. She has helped me through so much, and I know I love her. She has no clue that I have this love for her, nor will she ever, as I plan to hide it from her as long as possible. And hell, maybe
She's reading this, and I plan to make sure she knows that it's not her. Why? Maybe I'm a pansy, maybe I don't want to hurt myself or other people again.
Now as I sit here and read this fucked up horror story from beginning to end, I realize why I tried suicide why I took that blade to my arm and why I watched the
ones I love leave. As I reminisce, I am glad my bad experiences happened, so I may have a good enough reason to leave this life on my terms one day.
Now, that's years away, as I plan on not pulling that trigger, but if I ever did, I pleasure myself in thinking I have a good enough reason too.
Thank you all, for looking into the life of Logan Fucking Caudill.
I personally believe that for me I won't be able to. I fear that if I try no matter what it ends with a blade stained with blood and yet another scar on top of a scar on top of the original scar on my arm. I fear if I try to get close to anyone I will just end up a lonely heap on the floor, sobbing and staring again down the barrel of that gun.
Of course, this started happening probably after my first of many strings of long lasting relationships. I'm not knocking her or what she did, as to this day I still care for her, and by no means is this her fault, but simply a story to understand before you understand me.
In 6th grade I met this girl, (she won't be named) and I really knew something was good. Like the dick he is, my brother of course had to date her first, but after their 3 or 4 week relationship was over, I took matters into my own hands and practically begged her to date me. After about 3 hours of begging she agreed, and so started hell.
Don't get me wrong, she wasn't hell, what I did was hell. I started worrying more, over little things, like her waving at her friends or me getting depressed if she fell asleep really early. Why these things started happening I don't know, maybe the hormones of a 6th grader dating a 7th grader going through the roof or the fact that I was going through puberty at that time, but it stuck. I became that jealous boyfriend, (which eventually I had every right to be) as she went to her friends brothers house all the time. When she left me for the same person I was jealous of, I fell again. Whenever my great grandad died, I remember one moment where she said something that took a knife to my heart and etched "Fuck life" on it. She said, and I remember the exact quote, "Since me and you broke up, your life hasn't been.. Well.. The best."
For the rest of my middle school years and highschool I would remember that. I would sit and think about that. Of course the next week her and I dated, but that moment was etched in my heart.
Then fast forward, I run away, I try to get away from the terrors and horrors of this sick life, and I fail. Get called a freak, a "Maniac that needs to be in a mental hospital." The next day, I walk into school and see the girl that I had loved unconditionally for the past year, and she told me she cheated on me. Needless to say, that's the firsts time I took that knife to my arm and watched blood run to my fingertips. That was the spark.
After such bad luck, I go back to a 4th grade sweet heart, which we dated on and off all 4th and 5th grade year. After a 3 year (all together) relationship, she wanted to end it on my birthday. Spark number 2.
Now, I overlapped, during the 4th grade sweetheart, on our offs I dated this girl (not real name) named Krystal. She was perfect, because she, like me, wasn't perfect. She cut, she had suicidal thoughts, she was atheist. I loved every second with her, so much so, with 4th grade sweetheart I left her multiple times and for 6 month periods to date Krystal. She was beautiful, the one girl I loved more then any other. There is one other person (the Kim below) that I love more, but either way I would give anything to date her now. We dated altogether a full year, my longest relationship.
She was atheist, strongly, yet she had to go to church. I loved the fact that during church she would lean over and whisper "Fuck this bullshit." It made me want her more. Then, after a year, after a year and 5 months of knowing eachother, she told me she didn't feel right dating me for she said she was touched that night. I don't know how true that is or was, but I know that she told me she cheated on me too. That put the nail in the coffin. I looked down that barrel again, staring at the bullet that could take me out of this life. But I sat and I thought about it, and I realized, no. I realized how noone was there for me when that was happening, but I couldn't let anyone else suffer that feeling of lost, lonely, self loathing, to the point where I had cut my arm multiple times and couldn't feel a thing. I didn't feel the blade, I didn't feel the blood, I didn't feel the pain.
Just a day ago, I talked to Krystal. She told me she was Christian and had a boyfriend. I told her that was fake. I know because the true Krystal, no matter how "sad" she claimed to be she was happy to be alive every minute of it. Loved the sweet sound of music, and loved to write. The Christian Krystal didn't. She didn't feel anything. She says she's happy but there is no way in hell she is the same girl. Not in a good way. I told her her boyfriend deserves the fun awesome girl I got. They both told me off in a quickness, how she's Christian now and is better, though the fact of it is she's not. I want him to experience the fun girl I did. I tried to explain I wasn't trying anything with her. I guess I can be a good guy after all.
Then there is the fact I have fallen DEEPLY in love with this girl. The girl (again, not real name), Kim, lives in another state, I mean why out of state. It's hard to talk because of the 2 hour difference but eh. She has helped me through so much, and I know I love her. She has no clue that I have this love for her, nor will she ever, as I plan to hide it from her as long as possible. And hell, maybe
She's reading this, and I plan to make sure she knows that it's not her. Why? Maybe I'm a pansy, maybe I don't want to hurt myself or other people again.
Now as I sit here and read this fucked up horror story from beginning to end, I realize why I tried suicide why I took that blade to my arm and why I watched the
ones I love leave. As I reminisce, I am glad my bad experiences happened, so I may have a good enough reason to leave this life on my terms one day.
Now, that's years away, as I plan on not pulling that trigger, but if I ever did, I pleasure myself in thinking I have a good enough reason too.
Thank you all, for looking into the life of Logan Fucking Caudill.