Emilie Autumn's Key

Forget Lady Gaga. I want to be Emilie Autumn for Halloween.
And I was. I think I pulled it off pretty well. Even got to take a little trip to the loony bin myself this weekend too. It's fascinating. (Not). Being mentally evaluated and tested to see if yo uare a danger to yourself or others and whether or not you qualify for a padden room or get to stay home is hard enough without coming home to have a fight with your boyfriend about moving in with him or not AFTER fighting with your mom over absolutely nothing.

Maybe that padded room would have been better. Sometimes I wonder why I bother making descisions. I always want to opposite of what I choose in the end anyway. Why do people insist on making me choose. Don't give me a choice. But then I would fight for a choice.

Do I stay, curled up in a ball, crying my eyes out, scared to show I was crying, scared to stand up for myself to those cruel words? Do I stay in a place that I know I will eventually never be able to leave if I wait too long? Do I remain abiding to the limits and control that are inflicted upon me?

Or do I take a risk, even though I have really no other option left open to me? Do I become Emily (with a Y) and run for my life with nothing but a fine gown and a key. Should I, too, draw hearts on my face to remind me of what has been? Do I leave everything behind? Can I escape these walls?

Do I run to him is the real question.
I have so little faith in myself, let alone other people. Including those I pretend are everything to me. No one is everything to me. I always have my feet on my own foundation. It's not the strongest, but I trust my feeble floating dock to illusions of marble walls of friends. I'd rather drown then get trapped behind walls.

But I've always been trapped.
How do I know what freedom is, if I've never tasted it?

That padded room is starting to sound more appropriate.
I just don't like get shots of liquid zanex...
I'd be getting that a lot if that's what they do every time someone has a panick atttack.

I'm not crazy. I'm hopeless. People do desperate things when hopeless.

Help?

I don't know what I need.

All I can hear is be Emilie. Be Emilie. Be Emilie.
I have to be strong like Emilie.
And she was strong. She is a survivor with the same disease as me. In a sense.
Is that my key?
Won't someone give me the key...
I just want the key...why is that so hard?

Just give me the key....please...

Not you
Not them
Not him
Not we...

Just me