What am I doing? It's after midnight and I'm up. I have school at 7:55 in the morning. I don't want to sleep. Nightmares. Plus, I keep waking up panicking that this couch is smooshing me. I'm drinking coffee, mixed with hot chocolate, but coffee still. I won't sleep. I'm so tired of life, but I won't sleep. I saw him today. His hair is growing out and he wore a baseball cap. He doesn't wear baseball caps. He used to have a golf cap that he wore when I first met him. I loved it. I think he's sleeping with his ex. Not that I care. ****. I've ****** two people since we broke up. Okay, so maybe he broke up with me . Whatever. It was basically mutual. I don't think I love him. I don't understand this feeling. It's like I miss something. But I don't know what. Am I pretty? Because I wanna be pretty. And now I'm crying. Do you think I'll ever find somebody? I want to. Somebody who gets my crying and buys me coffee and tea and lets me make a mess in the kitchen and somebody who I can yell with and fight with and **** with. I'm not a good person. I know that. And maybe this ****** life of mine is karma for that. But I swear to god. I'm trying. I am. Will you love me? I miss love. Even when it got messy. I want to sleep with somebody. Feel something. I'm not nice. I can't have a nice guy. I'm sorry. I can't. I'm rough and I'm a ***** and when I make love it's passionate and fleeting and everything. Will you be there? I want to spend less time faking. I want to take midnight walks in the park and swing and go to the store and buy gelato. I want dates and kisses and doing that thing where you hold me and I rest on your hips with my legs around your waist. You don't have to like me a lot. I don't like me a lot. Just be there. I don't know who this is to. Maybe it's you. The one reading it. I do have a fantasy about meeting somebody through hellopoetry or tumblr or anything. You'll be reading my stuff, smoking a cigarette or eating or just sitting and you'll think "She's crazy." But you'll smile. Can that happen? Or is that just a sad girls fairy tale. I don't look like my picture anymore. I cut off all my hair. I'm not pretty. I'm not like the others. I'm me. And I"m different. I hate coffee, but I want to do slam poetry in a dark coffee shop and drink dark coffee. So, I'm teaching myself. It's late and I'm rambling and I don't have anyone to talk to. Sorry about that. One. Day. I'll find it. My *** of gold isn't money. It's you. I don't know if soul mates exists. Or somebodys. He was right. We think we know, but we don't. But even if you are just my somebody for a little while that's good. I just want to meet you. Be my best friend. Please. I'm so tired of being alone and pretending like it's all okay. I don't have to pretend on here. I don't have to pretend. I want to spend less time pretending. Help me.