I don't want to talk to you.
Sometimes I want to talk to anyone but you!
Occasionally I do things that are bad for me.
And I make mistakes that are teachers.
I wish I could say that I almost always feel bad and have it be a lie.
I hate being so tired all the time, and even more than that I hate being hungry.
But most of all, I really hate not knowing what to do about you.

Art appears to be a well thought out process, but really it is something that comes off the tips of your fingers and spills onto paper. It isn't neat or orderly, but what beautiful thing is? Art reflects our innards, the thoughts we have, and our torturous feelings. Art is my healing savior.

How long do I have left?
I'm getting ready, gathering supplies.
Lying in wait for the most important part.

People may say I need to get a grip
and they do not even have an idea how long ago
I let go

I let go and grasp
my fate
of either way

And really it could go
any way I want it to go

What way do I want
it to go

I know which way it should
but should I
do this

Or can I
do this

You say I can
but I'm not sure

You aren't inside my head
you can't see these thoughts

I doubt you want to
and I doubt you could stand it

It's not beautiful or pretty
like you say I am

Beauty isn't deep
it doesn't count for the nights
that I use those most important things

Oh look...
I feel hollow once again
Why?
I don't know
Everything drained out of me slowly, but when it was all gone I felt empty and alone.
What does my mind go to as soon as I am empty?
It conjurers up a thought to fill the space, and an action to distract me.
Dizzy and timed, all I want to do is sigh..

You ask me why, referring to another thing.
But I can only look at you.

I forget my capsules of bliss, and a tablet of calm while caught up in the happy I take for granted. For this I lose two days to the sadness. And then it seems like the sadness always wins.

The pills make my life flow, they make me function like rolling wheels on a smooth *****, climbing to reach something better always. Will I ever be satisfied?

I am numb, I am numb. Blood yearns to be set free, mind begs to sleep. Dependency has made me happier, but am I better off?

I don't want to feel a thing anymore.

It's been a week of you here, the week I get off of school.
I had a week of vacation with you, but now I feel like a I need a week of vacation with me.
Don't get me wrong, I love spending time with you, and I got to do that all this week.
I just get tired and worn out being around people all the time.
So I need some me time, some Kathleen time.

They say that if you throw someone into a bad situation they will jump out, but if you give them good and throw in some bad they will stay.

They tell us we will never find anyone better and we believe them. And maybe that's cause we figure either everyone else is worse or just as terrible.

The tell us no one else will love us or put up with us. And we believe just the same. Maybe we don't want anyone to love us because we hate ourselves.

We shouldn't be loved, we deserve what we get.

This is what we think.

And this is how we think.

Angelina, I'm sorry you're so sad.
Angelina, I'm so sorry that your stomach hurts.
If I could fix everything I would, honey.
Just let me hug your little frame.
We're at such different speeds, we're such opposites.
Why do I like you so much?
I haven't wrote a love poem about anyone but Ricky in a long long time.
And I wouldn't call this love, but more like infatuation.
You're so adorable, and cute.
Angelina, I'm your friend, and I'll be here for whatever you need.
I care about you, just let me help you.
Angelina, I'm sorry I can't do anything for you.
I'm sorry you're so sad.

I am a boiling rage inferno. So angry I had to go back over TEN TIMES to make this look 'right'. So angry my face turned red like Tinker Bell's and when someone touched me they burned themselves. I can't let the ******* anger out, I CAN'T LET IT SHOW. They will say calm down, and that's unnecessary. They'll never know how angry I am, was, and always will be. It lives inside me, ruining relations and saying things I wouldn't say. I hate it, and it makes me hate me. I wish I would ******* die. I don't want to hurt the ones I love but, that anger inside makes me lash out with harsh words, and a loud voice. So I hurt myself to punish myself. I hate my ******* self, I wish I could turn in on myself until what is impossible happens: I disappear. I want to crush these bones, and scar my skin. Please hit me with your car, and tear me limb from limb. When I beg do me no mercy, and leave me to your dogs. And when I started writing this I thought it would come out as a rage filled rant. Let me tell you something you already know, it came out as a self loathing run on sentence. But like I care, do you know me? No, and do I know you? No, and I really don't care to. **** me, *******. Especially me, because I'm not worth anything. I'm a ******* waster of space. ******* **** me please.  

Really though. All I want is a hug. And I don't want to die, I just feel like I should. I feel like I deserve to for what I've done. And I'm done, with everything, and everyone. I wouldn't mind dying, and I wouldn't mind living. I'm fine with either one. But I'm tired of dealing with all of this. And I wish I could erase everything that I didn't like and start over again. But I know that's not the way it is, and it's certainly not a good way for things to be. So I'm glad that it's not. But if only it could be like that for me.

I draw on my sadness to form my poetry, but my sadness has become invisible. And here I am still writing about my sadness when I am not really sad. I am just waiting for it to become visible. I'm addicted to my sadness, so maybe I should write about my happiness for a change.

I'm going inside.
I'm done with this world.
I'm leaving this world with a bang, with a splat, with a splatter of blood.
I've seen this world with my eyes, my ears, my mouth, and my nose.
I know the cruelty of this world
I've seen it.
I'm going inside, so done with this world.
I'm leaving.
I've said good, goodbye.

My nail polish is black
My hips are scarred, along with my left shoulder.
My mind is shrouded in emotionally depleting thoughts.
My stomach is burning, and churning.
I'm all out of buspirone, and they put me on prozac.
But its not enough.
I want to die, I want to **** myself.
I thought about over dosing last night, but I figured I should do some research first.
And get it right the first time.
My boyfriend says "don't, not today"
I don't care anymore.
I decided starting today that I will mark off everyday I want to **** myself.
If those days add up to more than the days I don't.
I will.

I thought about writing notes, but I don't know if I should.

Relax and shut up

Cool foggy nights lit by the waxing moon
Chilled glass windows, and cement
Sharp air that pierces your lungs, which you breathe out as warmed clouds of life
Crunchy leaves, and then months later freezing snow beneath your winter boots
Frostbitten nose, and cheeks that are as red as Old Saint Nicks
Harsh jagged wind cutting at your smooth skin
And oh, does it feel so good
The pain of the cold, it's my odd lover
Raw icy toes, and fingers rubbed on by the frigid chill
And oh, my dear how I love it so
The cold nights sliding into bed, and under the covers when the sheets are cold against your flaming skin
Your bare feet on the biting wooden floors
And the frosty wind that pinches your cheeks
I want to inhale in the intense frost and numb the aching thoughts inside
Freeze them, and stay here so they never thaw
I would be fine with that, killing off my wretched soul with cold
And I would love to freeze my body right down to the bone
Because only then, would I be cold

everything is falling apart again
crumbling like the earth beneath our feet
oh how I wish it was crumbling and crunching
how I ******* wish I was closer to you
this is what broke us
(I actually did)

I'm glad I got out when I did
'cause your world has crumbled around you, but not because of me
I've crumbled within myself a long time ago, and now I'm just waiting for the earth to crumble beneath me
Just waiting and waiting for things to happen
Always waiting and wanting

I wish I could break myself
but its hard to hurt yourself the way others can
It doesn't make any sense, but I know I'll never be able to hurt myself the way others did
Shouldn't you have the most power over you?
It's not that way in reality.

Some days are hopelessly lost, and the other some are radiantly brilliant. Those lost days sometimes take the majority, but more often than not they are few and far between. Hopeless days fall heavy on our shoulders, and make it difficult to find the shining light of the brilliant days. We take on those days with a stubborn face, and the waves bombard us as they crash into us with empty gravity. We don't take these days as plain sailing, they cause the ships of our minds to toss and sink gracelessly.

Oh, but those days. The effortlessly beautiful days, where you glide through and nothing catches on you. We live for those days, we are alive because of those days. Shimmering happiness floating on the waves that crash against you. The days where you are the beach and the water massages you.  And the sun sparkles down onto you, gently warming you further.

And finally, the days that no one ever told you about. The days that no one ever talks about, because you only want to leave them behind and bury them under the ocean floor. The days where you stagger out of your comfortable tomb of a bed, and stumble into the bathroom. You stare and glare at your mask of a face in the mirror, and begin your day with a sigh. You slowly slide your feet across the floor, scuffling into the darkness. Settling into this feeling of no feeling with a lethargic fall.

When I was empty
Music echoed through my head

Then I must of felt full of life
But now I feel like a ghost

Confess your fears and dont tell me
That you arent afraid of what we dont know

I'm full now
Full of fear

And people dont understand this when I tell them
Im afraid of what I don't know
And everything else

Surviving a bad week of urges and yearns means the weekend it finally light
Thank god it didn't continue
Thank me I didn't give up
Proud of me because I am winning battles.
Praise me! because I am getting closer to the end of the war
And of course, with a sure victory.
Although, not even half of a half finished, I am hopeful.
I will do this, I will win.

Have you ever felt empty, but not sad?
I am hollow, made of hollow bones.
I am decrepit oil paint, I am decomposing energy.
I am a whisper of italicized print, with the intensity of bold print.
I am the lightning in a storm, a withering thing.
I am bleach, sadness, poison.
Don't love me, I am infected, I'll **** you slowly.
Don't sit here, next to me.
Alluring? Hardly.
Poetry? Basically.
Depression? Definitely.
The pills don't help as much as they used to, I'm dying.
Rotting on the inside, you say life is a privilege.
But I'm not living, so please help me.
Sorry, but I feel like dying, killing myself.
Smoking, drinking, cutting.
I can't help it, anything to take the pain away, the pain of being me.

He's gonna get tired of me.
He's gonna get tired of the sadness my mutilation causes him.
And he's gonna leave.
And I'll be too sad to even pick up the sharp metal.
I won't even want to open my eyes everyday.
I won't have enough in me to even cry.
I'm sorry, honey.
He's not gonna want me anymore.
And I'm too sad for him, and I'm too much of a mess.

This is the first I thought this, but I really liked it.
And that's abnormal, but makes a lot of sense.
And I don't really understand why I still think about you, but there's a lot of other people I think about that I left behind in one way or another.

So I'm a sunflower, or black eyed Susie, and you're a ***** with thorns, but you're just as elaborate as a passion flower.
I liked the way you looked just about as much as I like flowers.

But the thing that's similar is that when we wilt we will look just the same.
And my dear, my darling, that's a shame.
Cause I wish we would have never left the garden.
But we were picked, and that was it.
Now we're just waiting for death.

Can crushing turn to love so quickly?
Can a hilarious first kiss turn to intimacy?
In the beginning, I felt like ohmygoshwhstisthisfeeling. I was scared to love and to get hurt.

I thought I'd have to settle for love, I thought it would be inperfect in ways I hated.
You are more than I ever thought you would be to me.
You are superb, and amazing.
You are the sunshine in my life, the clouds I love to float on.
A life jacket, the stitches that hold me together.
I guess I'm mushy in a different way than Dani.

Remember that time in Books a Million?
Man, I love hugging you from behind.
And you have the nicest ****, I have always thought that.
But I would of never thought that someone would run their fingers over my scars and it would feel good.
You make me feel wonderful.
When we kiss I feel like melting chocolate, and when I fall into your arms its like walking into a warm building.
I just wanna lay with you all day long and wrap my legs around you.

Together, I love how we laugh, I love how we argue.(its funny),I love that we are so alike, we are the best couple.
I love us, together.

You turned my sadness into positivity.
You helped me become something new.
You turned me into someone so much better.

You're my one and only.
The one who makes me smile like no one else.
The one who helps me fall asleep.
The one who told me not today.
I love you for all this and more.
I love you, Jan.

Forcing myself to preform the treasure.
Not thinking at all about the sparkling blood.
Not caring about the consequences until afterwards.
**** ME NOW. I'M SO STUPID.
I HATE MYSELF. HIT ME, BRUISE ME. HATE ME, please..
I don't want to go, but do I really have to stay here?
Help me..please..
Can you tell me those things please?
It only caused me trouble, why do I do it?
Not enough is wrong with me, please as if.
My distorted thinking, look what it is.
Look what it has become, maybe I'll start starving too.
I hate the way I look more now than ever.
It makes me worry.
And I'm sorry for my rambling, but I can't help it.
I worry about the future and what the heck I'll do when I get there.
Just stop, quit that, stop that.
goodbye

I thought you knew that.
I don't have the tools to tighten the nuts and bolts that are loose in your head.
I can't help you.
I don't have what you need, and I never will.
So, sorry.

I know that I cant fix you, but I'm believing that now no one else can either.

You're hopeless, you're the only one who can help you.

You can't seem to get that through your skull.

I can't understand why and that is probably because mine is equally as thick.

I'm not here tonight, I've left my body.
Someone else is here.
Making me do all these horrible things.
Why can't I just say goodbye?
I am not me, and I don't think I'll ever be.
When I look into the mirror all I see are the scars, and my empty eyes.
I don't see me, I'm gone.
I just want the war inside to cease, I want my arguing subconscious to hush.
I want every word to be unsaid, and every sound unheard.
Then I'd be me, then I'd be innocent.
Then I'd be peaceful and joyful.
But that isn't going to happen and I need to be strong.
I need to **** in the air, even if it is sharp like the blades.
Even if it hurts, even if I don't want the oxygen to seep into my blood and keep my heart beating.
I need to go on, because I will get better.
And the me I once was is inside somewhere, buried deep under all the skin and bones.
Behind all the dark thoughts, and behind my teary eyes.
Soon I will be me, and soon I'll look into your eyes.
And then I believe that everything will be well.
I will not be fighting a war within myself any longer.
I will not be bleeding blood, or burning skin.
I am not that, and I will leave it behind.
I will leave all the pitch black thoughts, defacing words, and ripping skin behind me.
And I will bury it 10 feet under, and plant the prettiest flowers over it.
So maybe they will become something better someday.
Maybe they will find their way back to me unchanged, but that's okay.
Because I'm strong and I will fight them harder, and bury them deeper.
And maybe even hurt them like they hurt me, but you know what they say.
Hurting doesn't really take the hurt away.

I chose to do something better for myself today.
I'd love to do that everyday, and never make a mistake.
Those mistakes are what make us choose better.
I wish I would always steer myself away from the worse.

Sometimes I would just choose to go off the rails, and never actually do it. And others I would be chugging along full speed and hit a rock, or a boulder.

With or without help I always get back on and always keep chugging along.

so i wrote a poem, or am writing something
i don't know what i need, i have no idea what i am
i took a huge step backwards

I fell out of poetry, singing, drawing, and painting.
Somehow sewing, make-up, AP, and seeing a counselor replaces all of the above.
I feel bad about myself--I really feel bad about myself.
I feel like ****, like no one appreciates me.
I am not valuable, not important.

I need my medicine, without it I would be sludge.
I'm not focusing.
My anxiety is worsening.
I can't tell if I am better or worse.
I can't tell if I am..anything at all.

And it never occurred to me that things might be more important than they actually are.
That the reason we do things is not the reason at all.
There must be something greater than us, because if this is all we meant for; I do not want to be here any one bit.
This is not the universe's final quest.
Why don't we do better?
Why don't we make the cosmos proud?
The only greater things watching us are the planets and the seemingly infinite stars.
And now we no longer care who is watching us, we do bad no matter what.
We should do better because maybe this all is a test.
We should do better because we decide our own fate.
And it probably never occurred to you that things mean more because we make it mean something and you have so much to think about with your fancy cars, silly phones, and dumb t.v. shows.
There is so much more to life than that.

ive last felt so low
and i don't remember that time,
but i do sure recall the heavy feeling of all the dirt on top
of my metaphorcal grave
and this heart burn won't be helped by the liquor
but i guess this is how i hurt myself now

His name is Luis.
He had a half dozen or so white scars on his tan arm,
I struggled to force my fingers to quickly run over his arm,
a quick touch that meant so much, and he knew too.

He didn't react to this, he looked at my fingers on his arm.
That was it, and I decided to show him what it meant to me.
I turned so my left shoulder faced him, rolled my t-shirt sleeves up, like I was hot, and I was.
It took him 5 minutes to notice, or to say something.
He didn't touch me, he ran the edge of his phone against my shoulder and scars purposefully, 3 times and said 'arm' the last 2 times.
There were no words exchanged, other than 'arm'.
I didn't look up when he did this, I kept my eyes on my book.

It was surreal in all the chaos of school.
It wasn't forced.
It was settled.
We both accepted the way it was.

On the way out
I wanted to grab his arm, and tell him that I was so sorry.
And now I really wish I had...
It has so much meaning
so much sadness.

It rips my heart open every time it happens.

Flood gates break eventually because you can't bottle all the water
You shouldn't even try cause glass breaks and metal rusts
Don't plug the leaks, let it flow and wash things away slowly
When it breaks it hurts and hits you hard
Flood gates don't hold forever, and now I miss you.
I miss the bus, and I miss ponds.
I miss the hill and that stupid tree.
I miss the new houses.
I miss the ******* rain, and I want the stupid accents back.
I want it all back, and I can't ******* have it.
I want the tiny field flowers and trampoline.
The puddles and that one snow day.
And I regret not taking enough pictures, cause now I don't remember.
And now I hate it, and I want to go back.
I miss you and the flooded yards.

and there was nothing I wanted to share anyway

I whisper in your ear that I want every inch of me to be touching every inch of you.
We share intimate kisses, and the word kisses doesn't even support the weight of the actual feeling exchanged when we kiss.
You stare into my eyes, and I'm not sure you can see me anymore than I can see you.
I rub the end of my nose on yours, because kissing is noisy, and
I hope I translate accurately how I feel
I shake my head, because I am so happy
I laugh at how much I love you, and how I feel.
The desire my body and soul have for you is immense.
And last night it was overflowing, in the back of your mother's car.

I know you're there and I'm here
Length and distance is the same thing, but space is different.
The space between us is nil, but the distance seems smothering.
I wish you lived on the other side of my bed, and I could wake you up to take a late night ride with me.
Kisses could be your wake up call everyday.
Our children could be my feathery babies.
I'd go to school and you could do your crazy binary math.
But that's not the reality of it
And we have to do these things on our own time, far away from one another
But the circles of metal around our fingers and the love between us keep us close.

And the thing is, this isn't poetry anymore.
Its a neverending string of thoughts that needs no configuration.
And maybe thats because my thoughts aren't tangled like headphone wires.
But... no.
That's not true, that thought was crazy.
Instead, maybe, I'd rather lay everything out, in simple terms.
And just slightly, I feel like that just goes to show that things are better.
Rather than bundling up my knotted wires and shoving them into my pocket
I lay them out to see
I'll lay my awful cards on the table
Ill fold,but that.doesn't require giving up.
You can still listen to music with tangled headphone wires.

"It gets better" was a phrase I didn't believe, not even for a second.
I would say it to myself, thinking I was lying to myself.
I would say it just to say it; just to get myself through the day.
I said it, I maybe even believed it.
But I still didn't realize that as I told myself a 'lie' it was getting better.
I felt more in control, and simultaneously was realizing some of the things I can't control.
It's better now, it really is.
So help me stranger, you believe it!
It is, find the resource, want to get better, and you will.

If you tell yourself that it will get better, and don't believe it
just you wait, just you wait, stranger.
You aren't lying to yourself.

The life of a self harmer is complicated, sometimes orderly and routine.
Or perhaps chaotic and jagged.
The life of a self harmer can be happy, struggled, or crushing.
We are not trying for your attention, we are for ourselves.
We feel inferior when we look at others self harm
Our minds sometimes revolve around this.
Gathering supplies, and sneaking around.
Hiding cuts, burns, bruises, or scars.
So prepare to feel alone, and inferior.
Prepare to lie, and withhold the truth.
Brace yourself for the constant worry that wounds will be infected.
Pack a bag of anti-anxiety pills for all the triggers that will be thrown your way.
Prepare to go back and forth with yourself: "I want it so bad." and "I DON'T WANT IT ANYMORE."
Have fun trying to pick out swim suits, or changing in gym.
Be careful about panic attacks when you cut deep or bleed a lot.
Get ready to jump for joy at razors, and for the triggers of any sharp object.
You'll wonder if you've gone crazy, if you could possibly not be insane.
Once again prepare yourself for the other people who harm themselves, you will see them at school, online, at the stores, you will hear about them everywhere.
You will hear people make fun of it, you will want to yell and scream.
You will wonder why you still do it, and how you could ever think the way you do.
And don't forget how you will feel so much guilt and regret almost every-time.
Don't let it slip your mind that you will always have it with you, and no matter how long you've been away from it.
Because it is with other people.
I almost forgot that you will feel like you can't get away.
And when other people find out, people that love you, it will hurt so bad to see them hurt.
They will be angry, and they won't understand. They care though.
And there will be so much more if you go down this road.
It's so hard to climb back up, but it is possible.
Sometimes I yell at people back on dry land, and ask them how they got there.
It's different for everyone, but please stay dry and off this cliff.

I thought I had myself all figured out
I thought that when I was in one of these 'moods' or having one of those "days" I was only looking through a tinted window where I saw everything negatively
But I realized
that it is the pills that sugar coat my world in synthetic happiness

It's not what I look through, its me.
Its on my insides, the sugar has to slide down my throat
to make it all better

she said it would even me out
i thought she was right at first
but now i realized she was a liar, and only a liar

I'm the one that needs to be sugar coated for others.
I'm the sour candy coated with fine powdered sugar.
I'm the bad that the good is trying to cover up.
And that is sickening, but how do I react?
Take another pill, Kathleen.

I want you all to myself. I know I can't have that. But that doesn't mean that when you talk about these girls it doesn't create a storm inside me. I wish I knew the inside of you so I could see just how much you love me. You say it's a lot, but I don't believe. Because with the pain in my heart I couldn't be loved as much as you say. And I wish I wouldn't feel this way because I want to be happy and I want to be okay. But when you take my emotions for a roller coaster ride I find it hard to try. I want all of you, inside and to out. And all of your imperfections and mistakes. To be mine. Because I love you even when I feel like I don't and even when I probably shouldn't
                                      
                                                                ­               If this is love
                                                            ­         I don't want it anymore.

I will go into a hole
a deep abyss
wet or dry?
dark or light?
drained, not elated
I will be gone
I will be graced with nothing
I will be buried by copious amounts of air dirt and water
I will be complete with nothing added
I will be completed with silence in mind
a black hole ignited with color
a void that I would welcome
a hell so heavenly I would float into it willingly
a palace not envied
but a place better than here.

I wonder if you check up on me in ways I don't know.
Then I think that it's not like you to do those kinds of things
And that it's just me that does that.
I wonder if you can tell when I'm lying with the words "I'm fine."
And then I remember that you listen to my voice, and you can't see my face.
I wonder how sad I can be with you
because I love you and I'm happy
but I'm not with you.
I wonder if I'm really only what makes me sad
Then I know that I am
because I think and think and think
And that's what makes everything hurt most, I suppose.
The deeper you dig, the more you reveal, the more you hit, the more it hurts.

I might be a little broken
but I still am a person
and I am one of a kind
I have these cuts and scars
but I know I’m gonna get far
And you can’t say I’m worthless or pathetic
because I know I’m not and you’re just a person
a person just like me with problems of your own
we’re all a little broken right down to the bone
and we’re all a little scarred in more ways than one
but we’re all people, and all just ones

And it still hurts bad..
to know the truth about everything you thought.
but it was all a lie
it's all lies in this world
don't let it fool you
you can't see what is true and what is a lie
just let it go, and live your life in those lies
I know you never cared I know you never cared before
and now why do you care about the lies
you lied to me so many times
what makes you think I can do any better with the truth now
see me bold, and see my eyes
they let you know that I am hurt
and the lies still hurt
it still hurts bad..

I looked at the way my **** was squished under me, I laughed and thought "that's ugly".

I then looked over at the scars on my hip.
"Now that's really ugly."

Sadness is worse than anything
Sadness comes with so many things.

Often I think life is boring...
I want to self destruct..
Cut
Drink
Smoke

But nothing is worse than sadness...
And there are so many types.

Self destruction doesn't make it better,
It will only make it translucent
For only as long as the high..

I do not love my life jacket.
But I do know it's necessary, I still wonder why me? when every once in awhile I swallow a gulp of the sea.
My life jacket comes in a capsule, it keeps my mouth above the water.
I am no longer drowning, I have my life jacket, and I learned to swim without the sharks 'helping' me.
Maybe I won't need the jacket soon, but for now I swallow it
The thought of my life jacket.
Maybe I'll be able to swim on my own
Hopefully soon because I do not love my life jacket.

I read things based off love all over, in books, on the internet, and in the faces of many people.
I wonder if I will discover that love everyone looks for, and then I wonder if I have already found it.
These people seem to have eyes for only this person, and that person only, they seem to desire nothing else but that person.
This perplexes me because I can say I love someone in the way I've been searching, but I can say that I do not always desire just this person.
Is my love not deep enough?
Is it not love?
Maybe I should stop asking and start believing..?
How do you know though?
Love is not measured, it is immeasurable.
It is something of no mass, but at the same time weighs more than the human itself.
Love is infinite.  
I can say that I love this person, and know that I do.
But is this the right person?
I feel as if I shouldn't be asking if this were, but for as long as I am happy I will be here.