Where was I?

I hate to put a smile on your face sometimes. It just hurts for me to fake everything so you can breathe in more and more joy.

I paint a smile across my problems with silly pictures and movies.
But I never stop thinking about how I'd rather die then see you say those three words to a girl you hardly know.

I wanted to trace the shapes of your face on a paper last night.
But I seemed to forgotten how your features composed themselves.

I want to see you, to hear your voice, to look in your eyes just one more time.
Or I might go mad.

All I do is laugh with God at my fucked up life.

I can't find my scissors so I can find out if this is real.
To open up my arm, to feel pain. So I can understand I'm not in a dream.
That I'll really get to see you, walk by you, breathe by you in 10 days.

I'll just have to trust this feeling of regret in my stomach that it is reality.

How to die:

Step one,
Be born to parents that only care for the infant you.
I'm tempted to stand in the middle of traffic just to see if any cars would stop.

Step two,
Let these people run ruin your life by feeding you junky fat food and filing your head with lies about seeing the surface when all they do is hold you at the bottom and tie bricks to your feet.
You grow up only filled with temporary fix of food and music that lets you smile for only the three minutes it plays.

 Step three,
You starve to fit in.

 but nothing is good enough.

 Step four,
You think you found that one, that one that actually cares. The one that would walk 8943062464 miles just for your sake. The one that understands.
The one that gives you proof that you can breath.

Think again.

Step five,
There are better people out there than you. You're just a scum.

That one is now gone.

You don't feel very much any more. You don't eat any more either.

Step six,
You die.

There is no happy ending to your living life. All you do is stop breathing.
The End.

Buying a stairway to heaven.

"If it's a broken part, replace it. If it's a broken arm them brace it.
If it's a broken heart, face it." –Jason Mraz. Details in the Fabric.

Me: Scissors are better dull.
Therapist: And why's that?
Me: It hurts more.

Mine^^^^

You said "I liked the old you better."
DidIchange?DidIsaysomething? Whyareyounotansweringme?

No, don't run away, I can't say another one of these goodbyes.
I'm no good at this.

You fucked up my life.

Everything was so happy again. I hadn't cried all week.
My thoughts are now so load I can't hear my voice.

I can't hear my own screams.

Me: I'm more than okay.
World: Oh no!! Tara's happy again, better go do something drastic.

You were close enough to reach out for me,
to hold me.

Why do these things happen?

Better is together.

Everyone talks about how I'm just not in love with you. How you don't love me.
I don't believe that's true, at least I don't want it to be.

You make everything better.

If someone says something about happiness I think about you.

I know I could never tell you these things. I want to.
But I can't.

I don't think you think about me the way I think about you.
I want you to.

"Love is when you go out to eat and give somebody most of your French fries without making them give you any of theirs."–Christy age 6.

I miss you. I miss you everyday.
When do you get back from Maryland?

No one say a thing.

Remember that day we cut our last class to go sock sliding at the store?
And after we got kicked out we were wandering in the parking lot and you saw a grocery cart and told me to get in. You pushed me into a few potholes and as we came closer to the busy road you started to push faster.

I said, "If you let me go I'm gonna murder you."
I looked up at you and you told me, "I'll never let you go."

Then we ran into a curb and I fell out laughing.

No one said you hated me.
No one said you wanted me to let go.
No one said you didn't want to talk to me.

Yesterday we talked.

It wasn't much, five minutes?
We talked about nothing, just stuff. Laughed.

I want to tell you,
I love you.

You'd probably think I'm crazy and run away.
I only want you to know.

But I don't want to take one more shot at losing you again.
I can't hurt anymore like that anymore. I'll slip.

"Listen with your heart, not head."

Fuck you, very much.

I wake up for no one.
I get dressed for no one.
I get pushed down and stand up for no one. What's the point?

My demented feet are sinking into the wet earth because the the rest of the structure fell on it
and the foundation cracked and thought it couldn't be mended
so it left.

 "Stop feeling like this, he doesn't deserve to be missed." Madalynne tells me over and over.

The pain taking over my body so I can only whimper but I manage to get out, "I don't really miss him, I just miss the idea of him, I miss having someone like that, like him, someone who gets me."
I wish I could cry.

We have no more hope. We are all fucking doomed.

I've just been so lost for so long I think I'll just sit down in the middle of this maze.
No one notices I'm gone. Nothings going to come alone.
I'll just sit here to die.

At least I have control again. I'm content with this.