3

I am tired. I feel sad. I wish I had someone I could trust. I mostly would like a friend. I stay up late listening to music and I cry sometimes. This is my only space to cry. There is no shoulder for my tears. Things hurt. Things are hard. I feel lonely. I can't say whats on my mind. I feel trapped. I feel like I can't breathe. I feel like I don't belong. I feel empty. I feel full of too many things I don't know how to handle. I have no ambition left. I am tired. I am too young to be so tired. I want to call out for someone to help me, but I know that if I do that no one will be there, people will only run away. I want to talk. I want to cry next to someone. I want help. I feel like a martyr. I just dump myself here. I will keep dumping myself here. This is where I have to go. this is my liberation. My freedom. I care about me, so here I am listening to myself. Crying for myself. the air hurts. I hurt. this hurts. I will keep going. I will keep going until I am spent.

Getting real with life.

Maybe I am just feeling down. Maybe I just need to type. Whatever. This doesn't have to be good. This is just for me. So, how is Kay doing on life. Lets take a look.
Object one:Was the dude I was dating who dumped me worth my time?
Perhaps.
Cons:
Drank all the time.
Was emotionally distant/ didn't know how to handle emotions other than run away from them and wouldn't just sit next to me when I was having a bad day
Didn't like hanging out with Tonya
Friends where more important to me.
Treated me like a chore.
Gave me an anniversary gift and then decided that it was enough to count as my birthday gift. 
 Put less effort in that me.
Was never sure their friends liked me. (Seemed like I was more put up with than liked)
Was a bit pretentious about his great taste of music, and wouldn't have any of mine.
Seldom gave me compliments. (Mostly only when inebriated)
Dumped me on a whim. Hard and mean.
I worked really hard for that relationship, they sometimes did. Only if I was convenient.
It felt like they were with me because it was convenient some days.
They didn't fight for me. They just saw something going wrong and gave up.

Pros:
Held me.
 Made me feel happy.
 Was really funny.
Played video games with me.
Bought me food and things.
Remembered days, like how long we had been together and stuff.
Really good sex.
Was really funny, like we laughed all the time.
Cared about me (said they did).
Played Pathfinders with me.
Had cool friends.
Had great taste of music.
Was easy to be around.
Gave me a place to stay.
Listened to me, sometimes.
Thought of things to do for me in the little ways/ Was really good at the "little things"
Was incredibly attractive. (Those legs, those arms, and that bendability. But mostly that face, when they weren't hiding behind shades.)
Liked me. (I think)
Cooked me food.

I will look at this list and expand it more later.

I am still growing.

This, these words here, is my place. I find my space here. In the past, this is where I ran to. When things got bad, when things hurt too much. And today, I'm sitting here, all by myself at this computer. I have no friends with me, I have no one who loves me here. And somehow, I'm alright. I hurt, yes. But the pain isn't too much. And I'm all safe, here in this secret. My words are the sanctuary. I have gotten use to becoming stronger. I do things on my own. I bear the pestering thoughts without spilling them to the world. Except here. Here I can say anything. No one knows me here. And they don't need to. I look at the old posts, and I see my change. My growth. My becoming. And that's how things are. I'm still the slow learner. I still have my downs. I just got dumped like a bag of bricks by a person I really liked.  And they only talk to me if they're drunk. And that hurts. But I'm alright. I hurt. I cry. I am hungry and it is Thanksgiving day. And that Really hurts. I have no one to talk to. But these words help. This is what I do to live. To keep going. Me and my secret words. I will keep going. I will keep hurting my way through the days. And there are people who will come and go for me. And it'll just be me. But that's not the worst that can happen. I am still the person who runs. I am still the person who hurts. And maybe that will never change. Maybe I will always run, and always hurt. But today, I'm so glad I'm alive anyways. I made it. Eleven years suicidal. Seven suicides. I've never cut myself. I've never put myself in the hospital. I have made my way. So thank you. To who ever you where, in that one moment. The time you made me laugh. The time I got to see a bird sit next to me. For all the cats. For all of the books. Every shred of kindness. Every laugh. Thank you. This world is good enough. Thank you.

Sick

I have only been to the hospital once this year. Now I have to go see a doctor, they say I am getting worse. I have to get medication. I have to get help. I just want a friend. I wonder what I did, what I'm doing to make myself so alone. I'm glad some people care about me, even if they are bad at showing it. I fear all the things one fears when a dusty mind breaks.  I feel so very alone still. I look for little bits of you in everything I see. I feel very alone.

The long haul

Then it hits. You suddenly realize you just don't care that much. All your efforts, all the things you work on, the schedule you stick to, the exercise, seeing people, eating good food, it just stops mattering. The change took place slowly you're sure, but the realization is in all one moment. You sit down, with your books, your writing, your art, your learning, your movies, your shows your friends your phone; Your privilaged lot. And it doesn't matter. It just doesn't. You just don't care. You are surrounded by blessing, and its nothing.
Because we care, that was your dying realization. I'm sorry. I love you. I miss you. I am becoming empty. 

Where did you go?

Some days, I lay in bed, and wait to wake up from this life.
A few days ago, I woke up to his voice says my name.  I walked around looking for him for a long time. I still see him out of the corner of my eye, every now and again. I still love you. My dear, I sure wish that I could see you again.
I have a lot of books by Camus, I should read them.

Far away.