Endings,

I gave up on this blog.

Or so it seems. I have given up on everything.
I have 6 more hours to write until 2009.


The door is open, but I swore I closed it. I locked it and threw away the key. But I guess you found it.
The smell of cinnamon roll and and vanilla linger in the room with a slight scent of smoke.
My shadow against the pale wall and the window black as coal. The nights get longer and my yearning to sleep. These distractions get in the way of my thoughts. There's a sharp pain in my right side; my back sore. Finally, some physical pain rather than emotional. I can't seem to let my pain be known to any human being, my escape is in these words.

It's growing.
The hole in my stomach. It eats up everything inside of me, the hole of pain . It eats everything I have until theres nothing left. I'm empty, I'm numb. I have nothing left to offer. It leaves my heart, my heart is pumping. The pain nibbles on my heart just to torture me.

Love and hate don't seem to exist in me anymore. I don't know what they mean. I don't know the feeling, yet I'm desperate to find out. I know I can't love and hate by myself. I need someone to show me, I need someone to love me; to hate me.

The flame of the candle flickers as it burns its way down the wick. I can hear the rain fall outside, the heater blowing warm air into the small room where I hide myself from the world. I can hear my stomach growl and the pain in my head getting louder. It almost hurts to think. I'm almost out of lead.
I'm vulnerable; I'm delicate.

Each day I over analyze every word and every action. Everyday I find a new excuse, a new reason to dislike something about myself. I'm losing touch. I don't have the energy to wake up in the morning, I don't have the energy to speak. Yet I force myself to believe.

Hope.

The flowers are dead to me now.
You gave up on me, I gave up on myself.
If I trusted you enough maybe I could get a word or two out. I've been kicked in the face every time I've tried.

I wish to have something.
I wish it wouldn't run away from me like every time before. One kiss was all it took and you had me in the palm of your hand. With that kind of control you tightened your fist and crushed me until I was no more than a few pieces of pathetic.

I never want to feel that way again.
You are one more reason to hate myself.