The Beautiful Good-Bye
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2003-01-17 22:03:13 (UTC)

I'll count the ways I love you from the scratches on my wrists...

This isnt as neat as deadjournal, but eh it'll do.
I feel used. Not like anyone got anything from me by
sucking me dry, but how people take my comfort and then
leave me. It's not the lonliness that kills, it's the fact
they wailed about their "i'm a loser" tactit and it made
you feel ok to know that someone had your same feelings and
then all up and leave. It's always funny how people seem
to "relate" to me and my problems and my feelings and my
emotions, but really when you get to know them they have
the world at their finger tips; they just want you to take
pity for them. I've always noticed that people are afraid
of my problems. I dunno, everyday it's the same ol'
question "are you ok?" 'cept i am the one always asking.
it's always when you need someone most that no one asks, so
i ask, but no one asks me. i'm completely dead for the most
part. eveything is numb. no one cares, but i am beginning
to think hating myself is a good thing. if i had one wish,
it would be to be somebody else, anybody better than I. I
mean, I have brains, I was 2nd in state 3 years in a row
for tennis, I have a loving family (minus my father &
sisters), $9,100 goes towards my schooling each year. I
have a lot, but I'm lacking something. When I find that
something I'll know it because I will be complete, but
until then I will wear my mask and pretend to be fine.

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