What does it matter now if I die? I'm already dead... I died of sadness.

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Lost Friends

I go out of my way to fix things. Repairing a friendship thats threatening to be lost, my story gets blown out of proportion and slams back on me. And apparently my messages are so wildly entertaining, you gain the benefit of humoring your new friends with my long and tiresome explanations. Hope they served your purpose. They came straight from the pit, no strongs attached. Unfortunately I left out the part of me calling you a bitch. Now, that would have wrapped it all up rather nicely. Call me a monster, but you mistake it for yourself. Too bad this is just a journal and no one actually reads this shit.

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I origionally pasted that skyline photo up on my page for obvious reasons of my own. The photo isnt nearly worth a cent... It hardly registers any emotion and fails to emphasize any subject at all. It isnt particulary great in any way. Its plain and simple. Maybe even numbing to the scenses. But when I saw it, I felt I should capture it. Brief thoughts of Her flooded into my head. It was neither a happy memory nor horridly tragic one to bare. It just reminded me of her. And how maybe... If such a place were possible, that she would be there, protecting us. And that maybe if I smiled up at her...would she see me and smile back? God, I miss her.

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I just want it to end. I want to sleep and never wake up. A coma sounds really nice right now...

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Get the fuck out of my life. Wait, no! I need you, come back..

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This old lady told me I would be a miserable dissaster till my mid twenties. That this prison cell of a mind would control and carry me through the years, kicking and screaming. And eventualy things would settle down on their own. She claimed to be a psychic. I claimed to be a teenager with hormones.

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The ones I love the most all disappear in good time. And I begin to wonder where it ends... Or starts to matter.

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He tells her that her screams have scared him. That he sleeps soundly but awakes with memories of her yells seeping through the floorboards and tortured sirens of cries from the tears that choke her. That dissociated psychotic bastard.

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Is it strange that I fight for the friendship of someone who wants nothing to do with me? I'll trade a century of my own happiness for his companionship in return. I just want him... I want HIM. I want him to acknowledge my presense and show me that I matter. If I cant matter to him, I dont know if I can matter at all... Its a scorching pain to fall so deeply for someone and for them to disappear. Silently slip from reach...
I needed you.
And now you're gone.

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