I'm crying and wrote this really bad and short poem. Might as well put it here, since no one reads this and I can feel safe and not embarassed by how bad it is. I used to be much better. Maybe it's because I've done too many drugs, or because I haven't done enough. Whatever it is. The ability seems to be gone, the ability to feel, to feel anything except what is gone.

I'm holding myself tight to keep my feelings inside
It's the last thing I have now
I'm holding myself tight to keep the memories inside
It's the last thing I have now

The feeling is missing
The emotion is gone
The love is empty


Jen do you remember the time we spent at your parents house. We had laid out blankets in the living room to sleep together and we had sort of a fun night getting sort of drunk on grape pucker and butterscotch scnapps? Then do you remember when things fell apart for whatever reason, when we had an argument. When I put on my coat and wet outside in the thick rain, that is pouring down as hard as my tears want to come out right now. How I stayed out there for who knows how long just standing and crying letting the rain and my tears mix together like two lost lovers. Finally you came and fetched me, even though we couldn't fix anything, even though we couldn't make anything better. I think the problem was I wanted to die, or that we had some problem, I'm sure the problem was me. I still want to die. The problem is still me. I still can't change these things about me that prevented us from being what we could of been. What we should of been, at least what I wished we were. We weren't anything like that. We were living dreams the whole time and none of us wanted to wake up from those dreams. I'm still living a dream, it's my whole life now. It's the only thing that's letting me stay alive, is the possiblity that some day for in the future I will be your friend and that I'll have a new dream, of having a friend that understands me and having someone that I can care deeply about that means everything to me. You do mean everything to me still. I wouldn't ever hurt you. I would never hurt you. I still hurt you even though I didn't mean to. I meant to. I didn't mean to. I couldn't control myself. I couldn't stop myself. I was losing you. I was losing what I had left of myself. Everything I had there I had invested into you, my emotions, my feelings, and all my love was inside you and I was losing all of that, but I was losing the person that meant everything, including my own life. You were always more important than my life, it was the only reason I could of stayed alive that long and made so many half-assed suicide attempts trying to get attention to what was the problem with me. That I didn't care about myself, and by virtue I didn't care about anything else. I still am the same except I don't draw attention to what my problem is deep down inside. That I can't care about myself. I just want it all to go away. I don't have the energy to make it. I want you to make it better. I want you to hold me and hug me and tell me lies that everything will be better tomorrow when I wake up. Just lie to me, do anything, to make me feel better. I miss you. I want to talk to you. I want to hug you and never let go, because if I let go you will be gone.
It hurts that I was never able to hug you goodbye, that I had to leave like that. It hurts that nothing was right. I wasn't right. Being there wasn't right. My leaving wasn't right. I'm not right here. I'm not right now. Everything is wrong.
It hurts.