And Here We Are

Once again, thrown back to reality; the cycle is complete.

I now sit here, hands in my face, only stopping to type the these thoughts of... everything. Everything that I will never again experience; every reason why I won't; every possible option I have left, if you can even call it an option.

The empty hole in my heart seems to call for something, anything.

Drained and concentrated toward the stress of needing something I can't have. Starvation. I have one goal in life, and it seems more impossible than ever to achieve. I can't talk to someone about it, no one ever truly understands. If they did, they would do me the favor of killing me. But I almost feel a need to be told how idiotic it all is... again. I feel I need to be told that she's just not worth my time.

If I could only forget these memories, perhaps I could escape from this insanity. The insanity that tunnels my vision toward suicide; breaking my will for a mercy of death, the insanity seems to be rooted from love