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I’d have…

a warm bed… if I would succumb… to the crumbs that you feed me.

I keep trying, I keep sending out messages, vibes, signals, if I could
draw you a picture, sculpt you.

I hate you so much.

alll you offer is rejection. I am so far beyond my limit right now…


I cannot even believe I’m writing this, and this would be twice in one
day. I am normally so controlled, and so calculated. I put so much
thought into everything I do… when I first started blogging,
discovering my talent for writing was a joy. What my talent has
wrought me personally takes my breath away in such heavy sighs I could
die. Some days I just want to go back to being the go getter clerk.

I couldn’t communicate my state without frightening you, I’m frightened.

I feel surrounded by poison… I recognize purity, but am surrounded
by poison. This manifests itself in various ways. Right now I am a
blathering over emotionally overextended blathering idiot whose tongue
has been loosened by half a bottle of white wine.

I have been this sad before. I am so sad right now, that I cannot
catch my breath, blow my nose, or dry my tears. I am alone, I don’t
suffer alone too well. I don’t even feel it’s worth cleaning myself up
for all the company it would get me.

These extremes kill me. They kill my relationships. They kill my
family. I am at an impasse as to how to resolve these emotions,
although I accept that they will pass. I do not know that my
relationships, the ones that are at stake, will survive.

There is no one I can call. My lifeline… died some time ago, it’s
just now going through the motions, and I along with it… I feel like
I’ve been doing CPR for an inordinate amount of time, yet until my
head bleeds I’ll pound it against that wall.

When I first started writing my thoughts were a joy to uncover…

Why is compassion so hard to find in this world? especially so close
to home? are we so vacant we have lost sight of the ghosts among which
we lurk? Is anyone more than just a player on this stage?

Bueller? Bueller?

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