Life is out to get me and now I'm sure of it. Let me hope for something truly, let things seem to be going well, all the better to rip my heart out later. I want to cry. I want to feel anything at all. Its like, I keep doing the same thing hoping that this time it will have a better ending, but no, it never does. I always end up here and I always know that this was going to happen. Everytime Im not good enough. No, I wont let myself believe that, because if I go around thinking that Im not good enough all the time, well, bad stuff happens, you know. So, it wasnt right, it wasnt meant to be, it didnt fit, is that what I say? Am I supposed to believe that there is some divine power reaching out and crushing my hopes before they can come to realization? For what? To save me from some greater pain later? Well, let me tell you, I want to feel anything, anything but this same old bit of nothing everyday single day of my life. I am scared to death of change and I am even more scared that it wont change. Its got to be out there. There has got to be in all the millions of . . .
Im so tired of pretending that I dont hurt. There is a deep, wrenching crack in the core of my very soul, and no one wants to talk about it. I think they get uncomfortable seeing me like that, maybe. Its just. . . everyone is dying. All at the same time. I lost grandpa and great grandma and now my grandma has cancer again and Daddy says its not going to go away this time. He is trying to prepare me for it. He doesnt want me to be shocked. I dont know if I have the strenght for this. These deaths are sucking the life out of me. I dont know if I can be strong enough for me, but then I have to be strong enough for others. So now I have this deep-seated realization that everyone dies. How many people that I love am I going to have to bury? (Not bury myself, but hell, you know what I mean.) But, no one likes to talk about death. Let me say this, talking about it is not going to make it come any sooner, it will only give me comfort, okay?
Just so you know, that first paragraph is about a completely different subject than the first. I was just wallowing in self pity and thought I could complain for another paragraph, and, I'm not really honest enough with you to tell you what it was about. Maybe later. (If I remember) Maybe when it has been months or years or something and my heart is no longer invested, I can tell you and then we will laugh about it like the time we . . .