My Notebook

3/25/19

Everyday I drift closer to being truly alone.

Sometimes I wish The Reaper would just come and take me already.

But, there are things to be done.

I feel alone.

So scared and alone.

Everyone I know has left me, so I made new friends.

Now they're trying to leave.

I fear that soon, the only person I can talk to is myself.

I'm scared.

I don't want to be alone.

I want to have friends.

I want to be normal.

I want to be happy.

But.

There is no time for imagination.

When there is work to be done.

My hands ache as I write this.

My chest sore.

My head throbs in pain.

I want to be held.

To feel this false sense of protection and hope.

I read over our talks.

Our fights.

Our laughs.

You say hurtful things.

I ignore them.

You get mad at me when I do so.

I ignore you.

You say I don't love you.

I love you.

But this is too much for me right now.

I need you.

I'm sorry I'm not perfect.

I'm sorry I'm not smart.

And I'm sorry I can't love you the way you want me to.

But I love you.

Is that not enough?

Am I not enough?