tonight is one of those nights here you can feel your own heart beating.
where you lay on your bed and wonder why you're still here.  why you're so still, how you continue to breathe, how your flesh is still somehow loosely pinned onto your bones, how your hair hasn't all fallen out yet or how your fingers move quickly enough to write the words you're thinking. it's one of those nights where you constantly ponder the dreaded thought of being forgotten. of being replaced.  it's when you think of your future and what it might hold for you. where you conjure up scenarios you want to happen, even though they probably never will.
where you miss people.
where you dream a little too big.
where you have small hopes to conquer the big dreams.
where you think of what you'll have for lunch tomorrow.
where you listen to music and sing the lyrics out loud.
where you cuddle your pillow, because you don't know if you're broken or put together.
where you're lonely.
all because of a heart beat.

sometimes i wonder what it’d be like if i stopped being the disgustingly kind person that i currently am.  then when i try to discontinue it, i realize that i’m far too weak to do anything so drastic.  i’ve had this revelation recently that nobody honestly and truly appreciates this “kindness”; most of the time it just goes unnoticed because it really doesn’t matter that much.  yes, i know the cliches of it, where even if no one is watching you, you should still be kind and courteous of others.
bull ******* ****.
when i’m alone, i could care less about how you ******* feel.  it’s not weighing me down, it’s not my
i was going somewhere with this but i don’t know where i was going.
how’s your day going, dear?

as cliche as it sounds
it's a lot easier
to be happy
than to be sad.
happiness can be
drinking your favorite tea
or eating your favorite sandwich.
it can be seeing
a familiar face
you might not have seen
in a while
or having your cat
lick your nose
with their sandpaper tongue.
happiness comes in all shapes and sizes,
in all forms of things,
both living and non-living.
however, it's up to you
to find your happiness
in those things.

january 11th, 2014
i feel like i'm getting bad again.  my head constantly hurts from all the thoughts i have going through it. my mind simply won't stop racing, i think it's because i miss you, but i'm not sure. it's hard to say. write again soon, promise.

january 20th, 2014
i'm getting bad again. i think they're worried about me. i told them about how i missed you. they said to try to forget about you, but forgetting your best friend and your first love is hard to do. i've been biting my fingers to the bone to try to keep myself from thinking of you. it hasn't been working. write again soon, promise.

january 24th, 2014
i'm bad again. i miss you. you told me not to worry about you, that you're doing just fine. but she's going to hurt you. i know she is. the nausea this is causing me is something i didn't know I was capable of feeling. it's honestly terrifying to know your body can put these kinds of ailments upon you all because of a gut feeling you have. write again soon, promise.

january 28th, 2014
i'm over the edge. she kissed you and hurt you. her lips were like daggers against yours and she ended up stabbing you, just like i said she would. but you didn't listen. write again soon, promise.

january 31st, 2014
i don't know where i am. you're sad and so am i. my empathy is unnatural. i feel your vibes from 3,800 miles across the ocean. i miss you. it's hard to keep a grip on this pen with the blood lubricating my fingers. don't know when to write again, might be soon, might be later, but i'll try, promise.

february 2nd, 2014
i'm sorry for the blood on the paper, it's not easy to control it when it's constantly pouring out of the self inflicted wounds that for some reason they've refused to patch up. i told you she was wrong for you. i knew that you'd be leaving and i knew you'd find someone else but i thought you'd be smarter than this. try to hold the pen soon, promise.

february 4th, 2014
i can't stop shaking, i didn't think you'd get to me this much. my vomiting is uncontrollable, even though there's nothing left in my body to throw up. my veins are exhausted from me constantly prying them open with the same pair of scissors you once took away from me. i told you she wasn't right for you. i told you what would happen. you knew this is how it would end up. my selfishness has taken over and convoluted compassion for you is no longer there. you did this to me because you were never there and you won't ever be. you knew how much i thought i loved you and you know how well i take these things. but my feelings don't matter, they never did. you said you'd be there for me but you weren't anymore after you met her. she changed you for the worst. i can't even fathom to say goodbye to you, so i'll leave you with a final story, since you love them so much.
"i'll sit here in my hospital bed in this gown they've dressed me in that's stained with lines and spatters of blood and smoke my cigarette and think of you as my last thought before i go. sorry to worry you. goodbye, my dear."
last time i'll write, promise.

i'm losing my best friend to a completely shallow cold hearted gripe who isn't worth anyone's time.
and it's eating away at me more than the maggots that have begun to appear inside my slowly withering soul.
my greatest fear is showing it's ugly face again - the fear of being forgotten.
athazagoraphobia- the fear of being forgotten or replaced.
forgotten. replaced.
easily.
you said you'd be there for me.
but you're going to forget me like all the other ******* did. you're going to get rid of me like every other person who has ever actually meant something to me.
you were no different.
you were the exact same.
you're just another page in my journal now.