Please Don't Give Up On Me

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July 5, 2014

Dad wasn't here when i woke up. It's a Saturday. He doesn't work on Saturdays. His books are missing from the bookshelf in the living room and his bureau in his and mom's room is open and empty. I think he left for good. Maybe it's for the better. It didn't really come as a surprise. I've been expecting this to happen for a while now. I'm glad he's gone.

I know this sounds stupid, but I think you're my only friend. Sure, you're just some pieces of paper shoved between two leather covers, but you can't judge me. I can tell you whatever I want and you won't say anything to me. You just absorb all of my thoughts. I don't have any real friends, so it's nice to know I have at least one, even if that one is an inanimate object. I guess I just need someone, or something, to confide in.

I've scrapped the idea of adding quotes every time I write. I guess I just don't feel like it's important anymore. Something I've noticed about myself is that I've stopped caring. About everything. Absolutely nothing seems to matter to me at all. It's not that I don't want to care; I really want to, I just don't. This isn't new. It;s been like this for a few years, it just seems like I care even less now, if that's even possible.

I should probably go do something else now.

Goodbye,

Sarah