I said "Baby, i feel stupid to call you, but i'm lonely. and i dont think you meant it when you said you couldn't love me... and i thought maybe if I kiss the way you do... you'd feel it too? "
he said, "I'm sorry. So sorry. I'm sorry. So... sorry."
he grabs my wrists as my fingers turn into angry fists, and I whisper, "Why can't you love me? I'll change for you! I'll play the part."
except for a few small bruises, cuts, and scars... I'm fine.
I've been scratching myself a little bit... no serious cutting at all. But to be honest, it's only because I dont have the right utensils. I have been so miserable, I am not sure why. I guess because i've been trying to hide the fact that I'm not over Dennis from myself, and from everyone around me. I don't want to believe that its over, I know that it is. Completely. as you read my words outloud, make me sound genius. make me sound special.... maybe Ill come down.
I've been in this wasteland of jobless, heartbreaking news stories, not being able to be near my family blues. My heart is really broken from not being about to see Rebecca grow up... I mean from one to two that's when children form their main interpersonal relations.
I spend a lot of time in a cold, dry basement. In the dark, it's furnished of course, but it is so very dark all the time. I really really wish that I had a stereo to use. I wish I could listen to CDs. I really wish so bad. and I can't wait to get my computer here. Ugggggggh. I am stoked for it!
but anyway, I'd really enjoy listening to some miserable music and cut myself, and write and read... and create romances between characters in books.
if only things were just a tiny bit different. all i need is that little bit. that small time lapse where I remember what is important to me, only minutes before leaving for Arizona. I realize that I am happy there. I stay there.
I hate that I wish for past to relive, hate it. I can't help it.
Just a little less needy and maybe I'd get there. just a little bit pretty, just a little more aware, a little bit thinner, and maybe I'd get there... I need a shower.
I'm filthy. Depression is filthy.
he said, "I'm sorry. So sorry. I'm sorry. So... sorry."
he grabs my wrists as my fingers turn into angry fists, and I whisper, "Why can't you love me? I'll change for you! I'll play the part."
except for a few small bruises, cuts, and scars... I'm fine.
I've been scratching myself a little bit... no serious cutting at all. But to be honest, it's only because I dont have the right utensils. I have been so miserable, I am not sure why. I guess because i've been trying to hide the fact that I'm not over Dennis from myself, and from everyone around me. I don't want to believe that its over, I know that it is. Completely. as you read my words outloud, make me sound genius. make me sound special.... maybe Ill come down.
I've been in this wasteland of jobless, heartbreaking news stories, not being able to be near my family blues. My heart is really broken from not being about to see Rebecca grow up... I mean from one to two that's when children form their main interpersonal relations.
I spend a lot of time in a cold, dry basement. In the dark, it's furnished of course, but it is so very dark all the time. I really really wish that I had a stereo to use. I wish I could listen to CDs. I really wish so bad. and I can't wait to get my computer here. Ugggggggh. I am stoked for it!
but anyway, I'd really enjoy listening to some miserable music and cut myself, and write and read... and create romances between characters in books.
if only things were just a tiny bit different. all i need is that little bit. that small time lapse where I remember what is important to me, only minutes before leaving for Arizona. I realize that I am happy there. I stay there.
I hate that I wish for past to relive, hate it. I can't help it.
Just a little less needy and maybe I'd get there. just a little bit pretty, just a little more aware, a little bit thinner, and maybe I'd get there... I need a shower.
I'm filthy. Depression is filthy.
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