prose/story/poem of confusion

I guess I can't stop hiding, I gotta be straight with myself somehow, it's gotta be now...but wait...I don't want my parents to know it, but I can't write fast enough to hide from them me everybody...I guess I can hide, I have permission to hide, just for one more day, minute, year, second, hour, lifetime SCREAM and the decision was made, but not for me, as the confusion talked coherently at last, and over the babble of my vocabulary I made sounds of visions that never existed because it's all in my head, and yes

yes I'm crazy, can't you tell from the way I'm screaming truths into your face as you turn away deaf like I'm mute but I'm screaming and all you hear
is

yes I'm fine thank you for caring I know you do you just don't show it very well What's that? no that's nothing, I didn't draw

little lines and stripes and hearts pour gush onto paper, stain the parchment of my complexion with the pain and hope and

art, as the life drains with the pain and falls out until I'm sane again, but still I'm crazy, and I pull down my sleeve It's nothing

nothing is what comes out of my mouth when you ask me What's wrong but I answer anyway and nothing comes out, but it does and I speak paragraphs sentences and still nothing, though you heard enough and decided that I was ok, after all, and

You must have a cat, or something. Lips move, not mine, mutter out of corner side of mouth as if that way I could pretend it wasn't a lie, sideways mumble Yes i guess if I got a cat then I could hide this

Art? but why would you quit teaching art, you were the best teacher of art I have met, and you taught me everything. if you hadn't bothered to show me love I would never have known what to draw when it went away, if you didn't teach me how to carve our initials in the tree

carve our initials in the tree

carve our initials into me

can't you see? oh, here I go, rhyming again, I'm sorry, was I making sense for a minute there? hour day month year second time is irrelevant when you're dead, I read a poem once that said that oh wait did I write that? written on my arm quick strokes slash! Slash! Bleed! Force from shallow wound don't dare press harder make my mark, permanent is overrated, lasting until the
end

which will have to come soon I'm dizzy now, as I keep writing on my wrist wrist arm slashing wrist cut deep frenzy of Exultation! oh! it feels so good! but ending soon…I can't writing on my wrist end soon as life energy makes up its mind to leave, deciding bleeding gone life gone tears gone love gone pain gone ink flowing free blood from wrist arm no scab scar gone but really never there never had a chance to form letters into coherent thoughts my chance is gone now, it will never make any more sense than it does now

and you still don't get it but I'm going to have to end this now anyway because

I'm afraid I'm out of ink...