It makes me so angry when you complain about working.
First off, you get paid so well and you enjoy what you do. I work at fucking Pier1, okay? There are no paying jobs for someone my age in the department I'm working towards. It's all internships. And it's for stupid shit that I don't want to do. I don't want to be working in an office for 8 hours a day. That's horrific. I live with the "what if I die tomorrow?" philosophy.

Then, you complain about your "long hours". For you, "long hours" is like four hours. Five hours tops. You just worked maybe five hours and you're like "I will not accept less than $150". $150?!! Like you realize that's more than $30 per hour, right? I could work for 8 fucking hours and make maybe $70. And I'm on my feet all day, dealing with bullshit I don't deserve to deal with.

I don't deserve this. I deserve so much better. You have your life handed to you on a fucking white glove while I'm getting paid $9 an hour to sweep floors all fucking day long. And I cannot afford to fail my classes. I don't have a choice. I'm paying for my own goddamn college. I HAVE to do well.


So stop complaining. Just stop. My life is ten times worse.

Dear heart,
Stop it. You're so retarded. He's not yours. He'll never be yours. He belongs to someone else, and there's absolutely nothing you can do to change that. I know you care about it, but you also need to care about yourself. He can't be fixed. Nothing will ever fix you.

If you keep this up, he will destroy you, I promise. He will be your downfall.

So stop it with the butterflies, stop it with the jitters. Stop it with the overwhelming want and need to kiss him. He doesn't want to kiss you. He doesn't know what he wants. So just chill. Calm down. You can't stay here forever anyway. He's too messed up. You're messed up too, you need to take care of yourself. He's not even healthy to be around. You smoke around him. You drink with him. You even broke and scratched yourself up with a fork. A fork!! How does that even happen? You've never been that desperate. I can't even imagine what would have happened if there was a knife within your reach.

I know he gets you. I know he understands you before you even can. You get each other.


"You and me were always meant to be together, before we knew the other was ever there... You and me, we've got two minds that think as one, and our hearts march to the same beat. You and me, we're searching for the same light, desperate for a cure to this disease. Well, some days are better than others. But I fear no thing when you're with me." - You+Me

I feel like dying.

I feel like I lost someone that I love the most. I broke up with him and destroyed him.

I don't understand how my mind works. It jumps to rash conclusions with little or no evidence to support these extreme conclusions.

My friend went out without me = he doesn't like me.
He didn't even like me to begin with, so I don't know where I'm getting that from. He said he didn't love me like that, but it's just super annoying when he kisses me like we're more than friends. I don't even WANT to be more than friends.

I took a personality test and it said that I'm a masochist. So maybe I'm an emotional masochist. That's perfectly resonable, right? I mean, I kept taking my ex back and I knew that he was an asshole, and I knew that nothing good would ever come out of it, yet I still did it. Like wtf. What was I thinking.

I also am scared that he's going to completely destroy me (or try to anyway) because he's a sociopath and I'm convinced that he's sadistic. I don't think this is me being paranoid either, because he told me on the first day that I met him that he's a sociopath.

So I'm just sitting here on a glider feeling sorry for myself instead of studying, which I should be doing. Stupidstupidstupid. What if he's having sex with his friend? Why do I even care? He was never mine. I never owned him. He never owned me. So I need to stop caring. I need to shut down that part of my brain and just move on. I like being with him, he's addicting, like a drug. So I just need to snap out of it. He was weird today anyway, so maybe it's just a phase.

Also I think I'm going crazy because I swear to god I can smell him. Like where am I even getting that from?? I don't think my clothes smell like him.

I am crazy. I've come to this conclusion. Maybe not crazy, but twisted. I use sex to feel wanted and accepted. I lie to people constantly because I want them to feel bad for me, I want them to ache for me. Why do I do this? Why do I think it's okay to steal and lie and cheat. What went wrong. What happened to me. Do I blame my abuser? Was I raped? Am I making that up to? Where am I getting these ideas. Sometimes I feel like there's just an evil living inside me waiting to attack and I can't stop her. Maybe it's borderline or something. I mean, that came up on my test too. I'm very antisocial, narcissistic, and masochistic. And sadistic. Where am I getting these things from? This is not me. I don't know what's going on. I want to go off meds but I'm scared.


I'm probably just crazy.

For my daughter..

I hope the world doesn't turn you bitter like it turned me.
I hope you never lose your innocence, and your unbreakable smile.
I hope you never have to stare death in the face and make a choice.
Even if you do, I hope you choose life. Because I didn't. I chose to give up, to give in, and now death follows me everywhere.
I see it in my dreams. When I close my eyes, my eyelids are painted in dripping blood and pain.

I hope you never have to feel the hopelessness and emptiness that I did.
I hope that you never have to be a parental figure for your parents.
I hope that you never have to comfort me, or give me advice, or loan me money.
I will be your mother, and you will be my daughter,
and I will take care of you.
I won't abandon you,
I won't neglect you.
I'll always take care of you,
no matter how I'm feeling.
I won't be selfish.
I won't cry in front of you.
I will always be strong for you,
always fight for you.
I want to spoil you,
but I want you to be strong and independent.
I don't want you to shake in bed at night,
or see men out of the corner of your eye.
I hope you don't have to use sex to feel alive.
I hope you never wake up in a strangers bed.
I hope your mind never blocks things out in order to protect itself.
I hope that you can sleep at night,
get a full 8 hours if you want to.

I hope you are not a prisoner in your own mind.

Here's what I've learned.
There never is enough time.
There's always something you wanted to say or do and never got the chance to.
You'll always want one more hug, one more kiss.

This is how we'll say goodbye...

From the beginning, I knew this would break my heart, but there are some things that are worth the pain and you were always one of them.

I’m going to miss your eyes, and the way they loved me. They truly loved me. Not for the sex, not because I was pretty, but because you appreciated me and my presence and you loved me.  And I loved you too, Andrew. I meant forever. Maybe in another life I would stay here with you. Maybe you would stay, too, and we would buy a shitty apartment and live a long happy life together. But that’s not the hand I was dealt, and you know as much as I do that I need to get out of this life.
I apologize in advance for the tears and for the way I will knot my fingers into your hair. I’m sorry for putting off this goodbye until we don’t have enough time to say all the things that we wanted to say to each other, all of the things that we’ve practiced saying in our minds for months because we knew that this would happen eventually. I apologize for not wanting to have feelings right now. I apologize for telling you that it’s not goodbye just a see you later because we’re both grown up enough to know that when we say goodbye it will actually be permanent.

I’m sorry I’m still crying and I’m sorry that I will fill nights of crying when I think of you and saying goodbye to everyone and missing it so much, so fucking much.

I hope that even in old age or in darkness you’ll speak well of me, I hope it’s with a smile, the kind of smile that hides a little something at the corners, the kind of smile that people will ask you what are you smiling at? and you won’t be able to tell them. A memory. A beautiful memory.  I’m sorry about the inappropriate laughter right before I leave because I can’t imagine handling this. Because I don’t know how to say goodbye to you.