Death for my birthday.

Suicidal people only make it so damn far, terrible people do terrible things, and Ryan Thomas Dilks is a dick.


All three are true.
I'm a terrible person.
I think i'll sleep now.
Goodnight, fuckers.

a part of me they didn't know existed

This has been me forever, though. I might not show it at school, or in public, but it exists. This is me.
Ryan Thomas Dilks, writer, romantic.
I'm such a sorry, sad child.
But I'm also such a happy, though scared one.
But life is not a spark in space, no episode of will&grace.
Controversial yet mundane.

I'm forever doomed to love the forbidden fruit, and kiss the poison tongue. I will never find true happiness for myself, and it makes me proud, in a way, knowing that my sadness will be your guiding light...


But I'm stuck on you.
I am.
Because I'm not allowed to have you, that's why.
your name is Sarah.
Your last name is O'Cleary.
You are related to Angel.
He doesn't PARTICULARLY like me.
I love that.

;D






Ofcourse. I could do better.

One more night.

In my life I have done a million things, and the one thing I regret doing the most is lying to Riley.
And then ruining whatever friendship we had left.
I am a horrible person because I cannot get her out of my head, and I am a horrible person because I cannot leave it alone. Call me a stalker, if you wish, but I'm not. I am just a boy with not much left in this world but his writing and his depression. I refuse to wake up from another night of begging myself to apologize without actually doing so, so Riley, here it is. I'm sorry.
I apologize for everything.
The lies, the rumors, the... everything.
I tried hurting you, and I'm glad I didn't.
It was today, though, talking to Leo about Oaks...
He mentioned you.
I said "I remember Riley..."
He said "She was a bitch."
I said "Eh. She used to be, but she changed a lot..."
He said "You talk to her?"
I said "I try, but she doesn't respond anymore."
He said "Oh... Bitch."
I nodded, and cried inside.

It is later.
I am telling Kathy that I miss you.
She tells me not to.
It is Seconds later.
I am tweeting to you.
She tells me not to.
It is Right now.
Im sorry.

How far we've been.

It is tonight, and the rain pounding against our window scares you a bit. You cuddle closer to me as I hug you tighter, "Don't worry, darling, it'll go away." you kiss me and smile, "I hope so, babe."

Oh how I wish we were this again.

Just give me one more night

"Who am I going to ask out today?" they hung in the air, and she looked at them with uncertainty. She shook hair from her eyes and whispered a reply, "Me?" He nods and grabs her hand, "You're right." She smiles and hugs him. Their heads come closer together as they lock in a kiss.
BEEP BEEP BEEP.
He pulls away and looks around. "What is that?" His voice cracks.
BEEP BEEP BEEP.
The perfect girl in front of him fades, as my eyes flicker open.

Today is Sunday, I am sore.

Who will save us?

I want to tell you I'm lying every time I say "I love you." But I'm trying to make you happy, and I feel bad about it. My heart is my own, and I'm not ready to give it away again. I'm sorry, but I'll never love you. I also had a dream about what I used to have. Heartbroken that I won't have it again.

Just send me that ambulance.

The slap echoes like a gunshot in my head. My cheek burns, as I clutch it, crying. I suppose I deserved what was coming to me, but I'll never admit it* I am a horrible person.
I would LOVE for you to break up with me.
Or let me break up with you.

But neither of those things are happening. :D
So I will continue to pretend I'm happy, when really I just want to smack your hand and tell you to back off.
Ah.
I'll smile, and hug you, telling you I love you.
I'll pretend that love songs are about you, I'll never complain.
i'll tell your friends how happy i am.
And then
When I get home.
I'll forget you exist.

Sic Transit Gloria

Her blood coats my hands, and runs down the drain. My hair is sweaty and hanging in front of my eyes, while I whisper to myself "I am not guilty of any crime." Repeat. I am smiling, despite myself.
My skin is red.


and you are dead.



goodnight.

The art of breaking up.

i need an ambulance.
i took, i took the worst of the blow.
send me a redeemer.
let me know if i'm gonna be alright.
am i gonna be alright?
'cause i know how it usually goes.
i know how it usually goes.

I am Ryan Thomas Dilks.
I am Forever.
I'm still the best, more or less, i guess.
I think
That.
I
Will
Leave
You

Baby please, let go, my Eloise.

Being the sick and sorry young man that I am, I'm flipping a coin to decide whether I want to hurt you now, and break up, or if I want to stay together, and hurt you later.


It said stay together.
10 times.

Fate or Coincidence?

I Will Play My Game Beneath the Spin Light.

The coastline is quiet, while we're quietly losing control.
How terribly sad.

I seem to have fallen in love.

Better think fast, Killer!

I have my first tournament tomorrow.
I am fully prepared to experience defeat.
I am NOT, however, prepared to go another day, see you, and not say anything.
You are killing me.
Your brother would kill me if he found out.

And you don't even know.
oh the sick innocence.

How funnnn

Sin On Sunday
highschool lows

Throw you away,
Throw you away,
You weren't worth much anyway.
Stuck in this place,
Like everyday.
Hellhole until I graduate.
Who I wouldn't kill,
To make love with a girl
Forget her name, with superior skill.
Take her back home,
To meet with my folks
Tell her a dozen corny jokes.
She'll call me clever,
Say forget her.
And I'll dump her ass within the week
Welcome to highschool
This place has no rules,
At least as far as i can see.

I'm a go-getter
And nothing smells better
Than knowing that we sin on sunday
All the boys with their letters
And varsity sweaters
Pray the day away until come monday.

I haven't forgotten,
You spoiled me rotten,
The names and the kisses and smiles
But you are my past now
Letting you know now
The words only intentions were to beguile.
That's right I lied just
To acheive your lust
Can't believe you fell right into my hands
I was stoking your hatred,
And girl you were baited,
You fell for my plan.
You gave me innocence,
For only fifty cents
And I got into your pants.


I'm a go-getter
And nothing smells better
Than knowing that we sin on sunday
All the boys with their letters
And varsity sweaters
Pray the day away until come monday.
I'm a go-getter
And nothing smells better
Than knowing that we sin on sunday
All the boys with their letters
And varsity sweaters
Pray the day away until come monday.

And this place is a hellhole
Blackening my soul,
I don't want this to be the last one
Fucking highschool drama
You hate that I'm honest
I don't want to be the bad son.
But I'll burn this place down
Right down to the ground
If it will bring home the bacon.
Because fat-heads will burn hot
In the big ego melting pot
That we awaken
To everyday!

I'm a go-getter
And nothing smells better
Than knowing that we sin on sunday
All the boys with their letters
And varsity sweaters
Pray the day away until come monday.

You are still pretty and I am still choked up

Lies are an ongoing theme in my life, and it's slowly tearing me apart.
I don't think i should care anymore, but I can't bring myself to stop.
You led me on, you did.
Number 4 to lie like this.
Thanks, darling.
I'm really glad you cared.
Thank you for kissing my wounds.
Thank you for telling me you love me.
You're welcome for the song.
I think I'll go drown myself in words and reverie.
Or I'll go die somewhere.
Possibly my bed.
Who knows.
Just remember that when you see me next, it was your fault.

Attention ladies and gentlemen, I think I want to write another song.

You left the frays from the ties you severed when you say "Best friends means friends forever"

And just because I can get angry.
How fucking DARE you tell me that I'm a horrible friend.
I pretty much TRUSTED YOU, queerbag.
I thought that best friends meant friends forever, asshole.
GOD DAMN IT.
I'm so pissed at you, man.
I don't know if I'll ever get over it.

Expensive.

Stuck.
I look down at the piece of paper in front of me and cuss to myself, under my breath.
I'm stuck.
All I have written down is one word.
Expensive.
I don't know what to do with it.
I turn it sideways, literally.
I still can't do fuck all with it.
My paper gets crumpled up and thrown into the trashcan while I stare at my table.
My table says nothing on it, except for the faint markings of what was possibly a love letter at one time.
Who knows.
Expensive.
I trace the letters with my fingers and frown, I do not know why I wrote it on the paper.
It means nothing to me, independently, and It hardly means anything in a sentence.
I wish I could crumble my table up and throw it away.
I'd be staring at the floor.
Through the floor, beneath me, is hell.
At least, that's what I've been taught.
Secretly, though, I think that hell is the reason I'm looking at my table.
I don't want to look up and see hell.
This Highschool hellhole.
Everyone is a liar.
It's disgusting.
For some reason, the children who attend school with me are too much like me.
Drama is what they leech.
They live for the drama.
If they cannot get drama, they become whores or bullies.
If they can get drama, they become depressed or ecstatic.
They feel the need to associate with a boyfriend or a girlfriend that they don't know, because it gives them the drama they want.
But there are the select few.
The ten people in my school who let me know, daily, that Ontario Highschool is not hell.
The people who manage to learn someones name before asking them out.
The people who manage to learn my name before deciding that they don't like me.
The people who help me see that everyone's an oyster with a grain of sand.
I've spent too long telling myself that I hate everyone, when I know that it's not true.
I just hate the majority.
But then there is you.
And you asked me for a dollar to day.
You said you'd pay me back, but I think i won't let you.
You are not J! and I know you a lot less than I know J!
I have never written you a song, and you have never read one that I /have/ written.
I've never told you that I love you.
I've never hugged you.
I've never told you my life story.
You probably do not know what my voice sounds like when I'm angry.
But for some reason.
Some really awkwardly strange reason.
I think that I like you far too much.
And that's why i want to, somehow, someway, get to know you.

Love always,
Ryan Thomas Dilks

ps.
I've learned my identity again, I'm also more of the man I've always wanted to be.
I'm becoming a real person, now.

I've seen more spine on jellyfish

No beating around the bush, I had an anxiety attack in band. By anxiety I mean extreme panic and depression. It was the angriest I've been in a long time and I have no idea why. The only thing that kept me from tearing some heads off was your voice. I swear. I couldn't get over the fact that Aprils socks were a different color, or that my trombone had a piece of tape on the end of it, holding my spit in. And I promise, I don't know why. It didn't stop until the dodgers won. I was still flipping out over every stupid nothing. I just want it to be next Wednesday so that I can see Say Anything.


What I could really fucking use right now:
1. a glass of water. Like, honestly, a glass.
2. some more music.
3. say anything live.
4. to get in a fight.
5. some FUCKING food.
6. and for sure some avocado.

He sifts through his bag, mostly to avoid taking another step.
The gates are open, but there are only two choices. He wipes his mouth and prepares for a step down the road on his left, believing with everything in his heart that it is indeed, the right road.

He will soon find out.

"why don't you just... ask?"
"because it seems to become harder the less it becomes theory and the more it becomes practice."

And yes, while I do wish i could just pull the fucking trigger, It's not as easy as it sounds.
My finger is shaking against it, and I don't think my aim is as good as i think it is.

I can pull the trigger from way back here, but it does not count.

once i get close enough to kill her.
yes.
kill.
her.
I cannot pull the trigger.

Die young and save yourself.

It's dark in here. In fact, it's REALLY fucking dark in here, and I don't like it one bit. I can't see who is behind me or next to me, and they are all touching me. I cannot see who is in front of me, or who I am laying on top of. I wipe the sweat from my forehead as the lights all turn on and I'm surrounded by victims of the same thing.
A succubus.
They are all silent, naked and bleeding.
No one even breathes.
I'm the only one still clothed and as a female hand brushes my shoulder, only one voice is heard.
A boy whispers softly "This is so messed up."
The hand pulls my shirt up over my head and I look the girl in the eyes while the boy who spoke bites his tongue and watches the events unfold.
And they unfold fast.
Soon I, too, am naked, silent and bleeding.

I am the lamb.
She is the slaughter.