I'm numb. I can't feel anything, nothing at all. It's as if I'm trapped in a deep, dark abyss with no way out. And no one can know. I'm living in a state of utter carelessness. I don't care what's happened, what's happening, nor what is about to happen. I find it difficult to care about anyone or anything. Hell, I can't even care about myself. There are times when I just want it all to be over. I want this battle to end. There are times when I just want to be happy, truly happy, for once. I wanna know what it's like to feel again. But no one sees it. No one sees me breaking. No one can see that I'm dying from the inside out. No one sees the subtle hints I drop everywhere in desperation of being found out. No, no one can see through the constant, everyday "I'm fine", no one can see through the indefinite fake smiles flashed toward them. No, they can't.

Because I'm alright, only dying.

Thinking about you is exhausting. It’s overwhelming. Wondering how you are, how you've been. Having every little thing bring back a memory of you. A memory that stays in my mind for hours, days even. Thinking about all the things I wanted to tell you; all the times I needed you to be there for me, but you weren’t. Wondering if I had told you those-three simple, yet so very complicated- words, if it would have made a difference. Any at all.
                                                      If you would have stayed.
Sometimes I almost forget you left; then I remember. I make myself remember. Remember the most painful things. I don’t know why I do. It’s like every time the wound is almost healed, I cut it back open with a rusted, double edge sword; but this time
                                                                ­ slower,
                                                                ­                    deeper,
                                                                ­                                longer.
I guess the feeling of pain- of missing you- is better than feeling nothing at all.