I hurt.
I hurt so bad.
I cry.
I cry too much.
I hate more than I love and
I can't take this. I can't
take this anymore.
I hope I die. I die
from this excrueating pain.

I leave tomorrow. I won't be back for a month; the end of November. I have no support. I could care less. I'm going to make everyone eat this watch.

Sam doesn't care. I won't talk to her for 3 monthes and the only thing she is worried aobut is helping her friend with her gay play. Whatever, goodbye.

Did you ever feel like you wanna be ( Read more... )

I feel as if no one cares..

ae4s (9:58:42 PM): poor Ambers upset ( Read more... )

Patience is but fury underneath my soul trying to escape from the grip controlled by my heart's mutter of silence in my breath. My life is passing uncontrollably in front of my face and then there's this flash of bright ease that blinds my vision and holds on the situation ( Read more... )

What do you do when all you've known is emptiness and then you meet this amazing girl and she filled your empty days with something new you've never known? Your days finally changed from emptiness to hope but then she shoots it down like you never mattered. But yet, after that, you're days aren't like they were in the beginning. They never return ( Read more... )

I am ashamed of myself; there's not a moment where I'm not. I am not worthy of you. My life is like a blind curve; you know it's there, but you don't know what's around it. I don't know what to do with misery and painthat engulfs me day after day and night after night ( Read more... )

With every breath I take, the more I seem to get over you but with each exhale, the more I'm drawn to you. What have I to say for myself? You have every right to leave me behind and go on with your life. And all the thoughts I repent, make up my life. It eats me alive; the burning curiousity of how things would have been if I didn't fuck things up ( Read more... )

Why do I try when I'll never have you? I can't seem to quite get what I see in you. Maybe it's the fake compassion in the tone of your voice when you sing a note or the roughness of your fingertips when they press the strings. What gets me about you, I don't know. And why you have me, I don't know. You continously get me with each breath you take ( Read more... )