"And even if the love was to fade away, I will always be amazed by your wonderful soul. I felt like LL cause you was from around the way. I felt like Q-Tip cause you were Bonita Applebum and you put me on. Damn, why’d you have to go and Sabotage our love? Dating you was like dating a hip-hop song."

"Looking through old CD’s and Books I purchased when I was so much younger than what I am now. I want to get to know that person again."

"I was supposed to save her. But the truth is, I can’t even save my fucking self. I know she’ll be just fine. But I’ll always regret not being able to be there for her the way she needed me to be."

"So maybe I couldn’t pin-point the age. But I know under what circumstances. It’ll either be outside a club, at the wheel or at the desk of my hotel room."

It’s not just raining outside. It’s pouring.

Maybe it’s my fault for always letting things get to me so easily. And maybe I should be a bit more private. But sometimes I felt like it was my only way to get through. My only way to get through when nobody really wanted to listen. Nobody wants to have a 3 hour conversation on the phone and I completely understand that.

I’m very aware of what’s being said of me. I’m very aware that I have become the butt of jokes. I’m aware that I’ve expressed so much of myself in such an emo manner, that most feel they can’t really relate to me in any way. It’s the perfect way to not only push away new people, but the old one’s as well. Nobody I know feels that they can relate with me. That makes a world that’s already cold, drop a few more degrees in temperature.

I’m sorry I’ve written so many things on here that reference my life, habits and relationships with the people I love. But each one was written when I felt like crying. Each one was written when I felt like taking a shot. Each one was written when I felt like giving up.

I don’t ask for pity. I don’t want help. I don’t want anything. Just to be understood. That’s it.

Slit Wrists, Empty Bottles and No Seatbelts

I hate myself and I want to die!!!! I want to fucking die! Kill me! Somebody kill me! I don’t want to wake up tomorrow!!! Suicidal thoughts come when your heart is broken and the bottles of alchohol are all empty. Speaking of Bottles…Nah. Too easy and more of a cliche by now. And I would never do myself in. But when you add insult to injury and feel insulted because your heart is already injured from so many other injuries, what else does an alchoholic soul turn to? You guessed it. Suicide, slit writs, alchohol and bitter diary entries.

It hurts to be made fun of. Words hurt. So when I’m made fun of for my inner thoughts, feelings and habits, I admit it bothers me slightly.

I always find my way home! Always! Maybe that’s why I drink and drive with my cousin as we avoid DUIs together.

Hold on. I’m bleeding over the keyboard. My wrist is bleeding. I don’t think that blade was clean. Yep. It’s gonna get infected. That’s fine. My soul is infected with pain that I feel and have felt for those who couldn’t match my intensity. I need another drink but the bottle is empty. The liquor store is closed and I can’t find my car keys anywhere. I’m so drunk that I actually think that I’m writing something worth reading. This is embarassing. Maybe I should keep my thoughts to myself and my journals.

It’s Always Raining Lately

I’m not going to lie. Every morning I wake up is a tough one. I remember I would start each day thinking of you. No matter how simple it read, every good morning text had a lot of thought behind it. I just wanted to do my best to brighten your day. I knew that no matter how happy you seemed to be, you were miserable inside. Maybe that’s why we click. Misery loves company. And I always enjoyed yours. 

I always knew we would never work. But it never stopped me from trying anyway. I figured I could help you get over him while I got in between. Remember the phone calls that always solved everything? We’re so bi-polar. One moment I’m texting you that I need to step out of your life and the next moment we’re on the phone laughing about our weeks. But after a while the 3 hour phone conversations got a bit old. Especially since they were usually to stop me from disappearing. But you know what? That last phone conversation on Easter bothered me a lot. It bothered me to know that no matter how done I thought I was, empty promises could make me stay. I got off the phone knowing that we would never be more than what we were. Lovers in the moment. 

I’ll never forget anything we’ve done together or the real feelings we shared.