That girl you don't see her round no more

I'm running on no sleep, no coffee, no water and no food.
i am under hydrated, undercaffinate, underslept.
I think my insomnia is coming back, yesterday was one of the best days since returning from the magic that was the gathering, I remeber I was actually happy when the lights went off and my head hit the pillow, but it is allways during those crucial times when the mind wanders before sleep that we are most vulnerable.

After these 19 years of being strong, maybe even hard, needing no one or anything and getting buy. 19 years of strength, I felt every last inch of it dwindle and die last night. I thought of all the good times last week, and the good times of my past, my friends who meant more than the world, more than family and blood. I remebered where they all are now, who do I tell my secrets too? The people I confided in, talked to, god we talked about everything, their all gone. And then the emptiness set in. How these last few weeks with family are taking an extra years worth of toll, divorce, fighting, immaturity, yelling. i never thought i'd say this but i'm actually growing apart from them as well, funny I didn't realize there was anything to grow apart from with them. I can't talk to them, or lean on them.

And I felt really alone. Dispite the people I just left, for some reason we never reached the point where we can talk about anything, or rather where I can talk about anything. Seems to be the one thing about me, anyone can tell me anything.. I like that. What I don't like, is how I no longer have that support group that I can have the same feeling of support, guidance maybe. I suppose there's the PPK, and I love them all, truely. It's just... I don't think I've ever been able to truely feel the miles between people, as I can with them.

Grade 9-10 the old group, the table, those are times I truely and sorely miss. But even if I seek out the memebers of my past, I know what was there is dead, and I lack the medical and social knowledge to bring it back. I thinkt hat maybe i'm not good enough, to have them, or anyone. Friends in general. And it's back to childhood and inadequencies, something I guess I never really got over.

But i'm degressing, this is supposed to be a retelling of everything I felt and thought last night, in those hours of sleeplessness, when I willed myself to remeber, to stay in bed away from the paper, remeber and write tomorow, sleep now. But sleep never really came.

I felt cold, and alone. In this new house's lack of warm, maybe I hope the memories would stay within the wooden cofines of the house in which they happened, the first kisses, the sleep overs, confessions, love, video games and friendship. But they didn't. I can't remeber when I started crying, but it happened, strength and will melted into sorrow and weakness. Alone in my new world, with the prospects of leaving forever (finally) exciting adulthood and return to my home town, the city I love. The new life i've wanted ever since I arrived here just weeks away, and this place got to me again. Againts the cold walls of my new bed room my sides shook with tears and sobs, feeling alone as I ever had in this place. Wiping the water from my cheeks, thinking about how pathetic is was to be here, to lose out now when i'm so close. To actually maybe even fear my new life? That maybe it's not the awnser, maybe things won't get better, maybe it's just me.

I wonder if selfesteme is something i'll ever truely master, last week was a great boost in moral, mood, life and self worth. But then the reality of all i've lost, and thoughts of when that too will be lost came crashing in. Pathetic.
Worst still are thoughts of intimacy, gosh, how long has it been? Sure there are needs, wants, desires, lust even. But the thought of those needs ever being met again seems slim, perhaps the hormones or lust itself drove these crazy thoughts. I honestly sat and wondered, willed myself to remeber, how was it done, what happened? Sure the basic biology is a given, the feelings or sensations are vividly recalls, but I can't picture it. Or really even ever picture how it would be done again. Can you forget how to do it? Can you ever re-learn, or are you doomed to celibacy. A scary thought. Thinking back to it all I couldn't remeber anything positive, just his hands on me, violation and the memories of what happend with that chapter. I tried to stop it all, not to think to remeber to envision, but it all came back. And I couldn't get his hands off me, his touch lingered, his lies everything felt as if it were infecting me, making me ill, tainted. I felt gross, worst of all I felt weak. The mere memories or vague flashes, and all i could envision was myself with him and feel disgust and sorrow.

I cryed harder, and wondered where all my years of strength had gone. Where she was, or anyone, all the people I had once confided the world in. The people who kept me going, and the bonds we were so sure would last forever. I sobed until it was morning, lay down my head and thought of all the great friendships and people and what had become of us all.

Love's The Funeral of Hearts

I do care.
fuck it, I can't hide from it in that damned dingy gymnasium as the hot salt pours down my face.
I get it, I was wrong. I can't stop caring, I can't protect myself. The tears keep falling and I see them siting there, laughing, joking and I just want to get up and kick them both square in the face.
For their insolence
For all this pain
How little they do care, about anything.

I do care, in fact I care a damn lot. I care when they leave, in their drunken stumble, keys torn from my hands and I'm left again, alone and cold. The feeling is overwhelming as the screen cries tears of mothers and sons, M.A.D.D. Drunk driving: No one wins.
There I sit in the herd as alone as ever. Keep watching ... keep remembering.
Those cold nights.
You glare at their chuckling backs. They don't care, or even speak to you. Yet none of this changes how you feel about them.
Nothing changes the heart ache felt if they were gone. He acts as if he hates you, maybe he does, ignores and mistreats you even hurts you, but thoughts of them laying dead still plague you.

Waking up in cold sweats with blood soaked hands. Wake up again, colder than before.
Night after night you see the two you love leave. Pull out of the driveway and burn rubber as your left crying inside.
You're never there when it happens and you never will be. You don't drink, or even drive, your not with them, but you still see.

The car engulfed in flames, their blood and the crumbling metal. The glass, blood soaked and holing strong against their struggling screams.
Their trapped as they burn, your siting at home.
You will never ever be there to pound your bloody hands in vain against the burning glass. Your skin will never bubble as it slides off the molted handles in vain as you try to open the car doors.

But there in your dreams, your hands burn and bleed every night, you never succeed. You just keep beating your blood soaked hands against that damned glass. You watch them scream. Some nights the glass breaks, and you grab the hot shards with your hands, desperately pulling them away. You bleed and reach for them, flames engulf you arms, burning them. You never save them, they continue to burn. Once you managed to get hold of him, free his corpse from the mess, and the other burned while you did. Both die, each night.
And at home you weep, because you know you'll never get the chance to burn your hands.
To try.

You wake up each day knowing that the day the dreams become reality, the day those you love burn alive, you will be sitting as you are in your dreams, alone at home, crying. The cop will come to your door and tell you it's much too late and you will weep.

And every day will be spent forever wishing you'd been given the chance to burn your hands.
But you were at home,
helpless,
guilty.
Knowing you weren't there when it happened, no last chance to help them, and knowing worst of all that they were there because of you.

I can't even begin to describe the anger felt as all the memories of all those nights they pulled away. The nights he yelled at you, demanding his keys. Those nights when he was "fine to drive". And worst of all, all those same nights you caved.
All those nights you got yelled at, scorned, cursed, abandoned and your cried. All damage done.
AND STILL YOU LET THEM LEAVE.

So in the assembly you sit, silent, alone and crying. As guilty as the rest who laugh and joke, only your not laughing. You sit and silently hope that something will click, that they will see all the pain, and it will matter to them. And they'll stop, they'll be safe.

You love, but your alone. You can't think of why you care, but your overwhelmed with the fact that you do. Love that's choking you. You can't stop and it hurts. God damn it you love them both so much, they'll never know, it hurts. You feel alone. Y0u care and it gets you no where, nothing in return, they just ignore you but you don't learn.

Is this what love is? to be hurt?

To have your heart riped out with every breathe. To give everything on a daily basis, the absolute power over you, the power to hurt you? Do they really know they hold your heart?
Is love to stand still and silent while they fake full advantage.
to care all the while, to cry. To worry to the point of annoyance. Wake up in the cold sweats and be ignored the next day in the hallway. To give your all and protect them, despite how much they anger you at times.
They never asked for your affection, perhaps they don't want you love. But you can't stop it? Is that how it all works? Is love to be resentful and hateful of how they hurt you? How you care so much for them, and they care nothing for themselves?

Honestly,I'm not sure ... but I do agree with one thing love is.
the funeral of hearts.
To love is to open your heart up to be destroyed.
To kill it and bury it, at the hands of those you love.
Because it hurts you and you can't escape it, you don't want it,
but it's there. Yielding to no one, no reason nor logic. It exists where and when it's unwanted, undeserved and enjoyed. You have no control over when, who, where or anything else.
In the end it will kill you and rip out your heart every time.
It is to be vulnerable.