An introduction into the mind of an Emo...

Day 1:

Dear Diary, I’ve decided to start writing about how I feel because no one I know understands me...I think I’ll write a poem about how I feel…

I feel so cold…

I am an empty shell…

No one understands me…

My only hope is death…

Please let me die…

Death is my escape…

Oh Diary…You’re such a good listener…

Day 2:

I hate the world…No one loves me…If someone loved me than everything would be alright…I just hope people will one day stop picking on me…All my friends hate me…

No one cares about me at all…

Day 3:

Dear Diary, I’ve recently met someone…She thought I was mature and smart…I think I’m in love…I think I have actually smiled today but it hurt because I had to use muscles I’ve never used before…From now on diary…I’ll use big words when I don’t need to because it’ll make people think I’m smart…I have also written another poem…

The sun is shining…

The birds are singing…

I did not slit my wrist today…

Day 4:

She was a lying whore…I hate her…I hope she dies…I even cut myself again…It turned out she stood me up…

She only said she liked me was because she wanted to see if I’d kill myself or not when she told me it was just a joke…

I’ll have to wear long sleeved clothes from now on…I don’t want her to get the satisfaction of looking at my scars…I think the muse has called again…

HATE HATE HATE!

DEATH DEATH DEATH!

I hope she rots…

I hope she dies…

I hate her…

Day 5:

I think I’ve found the reason of my problems…A book I’ve just read says that the reason I feel so lonely is because I’m better then everyone I know and that it’s conflicting with who I am…My friends are holding me back…And sexual frustration isn’t helping me either…

Day 6:

Dear Diary, I’ve just molested my cat…I don’t know what came over me…She just stared at me with those eyes and mewed at me…It set off some strange primal instinct of me…I don’t think things will ever be the same with my cat…

Day 7:

Dear Diary, I have seen that there is no point in living…

Marilyn Manson has told me that my only escape is death…I guess I’ll go overdose on the crate of Viagra I found…Well…While I’m waiting for the effects to take place...

Woe is me…

Life is lifeless…

Pain is painless…

Death is deathless…

Goodbye cruel world…

My erection is erectionless…

Day 8:

……………………………………………….....................

Day 9:

………………………………………………………………

Day 10:

………………………………………………………………

Day 11:

……………………………………………………………

Day 12:

I’m not dead…My parents always think they know what’s best for me…And they decided that dying wouldn’t be good enough for me…So they decided to rush me to the hospital…As is usual…They didn’t bother to ask me if I wanted to live or not…I mean…How can they be so insensitive?

Final Day:

The doctor is looming over my bed right now…He’s saying something about how he’s sick of us Emo’s…Never able to go the whole way…About how pissed off he is because we can’t kill ourselves properly…

He’s saying something about killing me…

Please God…Help me…I don’t want to die…I have so much to live for…

No…Wait a minute…What the hell am I saying?

I’m an Emo dammit…

I think I’ll write a poem while I wait for him to finish the job…