Who's this awful and lonely?

You look like the rain when it falls, the wordless books I read, the bare walls. That's why I stare at them so much, I want to remember your face.

It's been weeks since I've talked to you.
I've been so lame and uninspired my insides are being shredded from all this.

My throat is knotted around my heart so I can't explain any of my thoughts to you.
Or say a word, syllable, letter even too you with out collapsing in a disgusting fat mess I actually am.
We don't know each other any more.

"There's only two kinds of people in this world. There's saved people and lost people"–Bob Dylan
I'm so lost.
I'm not even sure if there is a me anymore.
Everyone seems to like split me open and to pick and choose which parts they want.

I wish I was a deer.
Maybe someone would shoot me before I do.

I miss you, I fucking miss you.
It really does hurt.
When you're all that's in my head body and you don't even give me a thought because you have ten other girls on your mind other than me you'd understand why I want to scream at you.