Barely making it. Tomorrow's so close. I really want to be held right now, to be engrossed in someone's arms, feeling nothing but comfort and serenity. I didn't feel close tonight. Distance was suffocating me from everyone, and for that I'm sorry. I don't think it seemed that way, but if I leaked out any of that feeling towards anyone, I truly am sorry. I did have a really good time tonight. Laughter is infectious, smiles contagious... Libby, Emi, Adam, Steve, Shamiran are absolutely hilarious when it comes down to cut and dry. But I am slate, carved and placed in this world to react to nothing, feel nothing (Note: that statement is incredibly false). We are dying from the day we are born. I am expediting that process. I'm slipping, giving in to the inevitable. I am a small, ugly, worthless wreck of a human being. My existance is worth nothing and for me to sit here breathing is a waste of my own time. But I feel the need for it right now, so I will remain...small, ugly, worthless, all the latter.

The shock of the fall, the one moment when I knew I was lying on the ground, waiting for only myself to pick myself up, only to realize that I would just get up to fall down again...hard. I suppose I kept forcing myself to get back up only to throw myself upon the ground to teach myself a lesson.

THIS IS WHAT YOU DESERVE, YOU SHIT. YOU DESERVE TO BE TANTALIZED TO A POINT WHERE YOU WILL FINALLY SEE THAT YOU ARE A NOTHING, A NO ONE, INFERIOR TO ALL THAT SURROUNDS YOU. KEEP GETTING UP SO YOU CAN FALL OVER AGAIN, FOR YOU WILL NEVER WALK THE FINE LINE BETWEEN HOPE AND REALITY. YOU ARE A FAILURE IN ALL POSSIBLE WAYS, AND THAT'S WHAT MAKES YOU WEAK. SMILE NOW, LAUGH NOW, DO WHATEVER SILLY, STUPID THING THAT MAKES YOU FEEL MORE IMPORTANT. BUT JUST KNOW THAT YOU WILL ARISE AGAIN ONLY TO PLUMMET TO THE FLOOR.

A small, bruised, battered body and a mind that has shrunk to the size of an amoeba, is the stature of my possession. Words and thoughts are incoherent and meaningless, just as everything else that seems to come and go, passing slow enough so that I may touch it. I am slower than that slow. I lose it. I fall. I failed. I'm sorry.

There is nothing right about the situation. There's nothing there that makes me belive so. Why now? Why then? Always in search of answers, but the questions I propose seem to always have none. I feel awkward now, forced, seemingly unhappy (maybe, I have yet to figure that out). Nothing is the same and it will never be the same if the above felt is the case. Or overthinking is playing a key role in the situation and maybe that needs to cease. I need to relax. I'll never be the beautiful, delicious, or yummy person I would like to be. It is not my destiny. I do not control it. I have nothing to hide from anyone. I am not a secret. I expect great things. But great things don't happen to great people. So I don't really know why I'm expecting. I don't know what I'm doing anymore. The lack of communication is deafening, a high pitched roar that echoes throughout my ears and blinds my sight of what is really present...Nothing is right and everything is wrong.

Last night it started to snow. I wanted to run outside to catch the last of the rain, so that maybe as things cooled down I would begin to freeze, being covered in the light blanket of white that covered the rest of the frozen tundra. I am ordinary, which I suppose isn't a bad thing, but I hate it. I hate myself. I'm miserable. I wonder if things are special anymore, the little things. Maybe little things became overused, and now they are just an excuse for makeup. Maybe I should start to wear makeup...eyeshadow for the lids, the doors to my soul, mascara to absorb the thoughts that leak from my soul, lipstick to hide the gates the lead to breath - to passion and sense, and foundation to hide behind, my own Mardi Gras mask. Maybe I should hide, reclose myself from everyone.

I miss ears, the only one(s) to hear out my every thought. There is the mind, to interpret lost incoherence, to turn thought into meaning. All is gone. Here I go.

An unconcious disturbance in my life...but really not. The words spoke from thy mind will never cease to stop haunting me in the worst way possible. It will forever remain in my mind that it was thee who spoiled the best thing I had in a long while. I will hold it against thee until repent, but it will not be forgiven so quickly. Time takes endless to heal open wounds, but only seconds to tear apart the stiches. I despise thee.