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I still do, but I can’t figure out why.
I miss his fucking mom and his little brother, and his sisters and his dad and step dad, even his step mom.
They all liked me so much. I was the best thing that ever happened to him and they all knew it, but he treated me like complete shit since the day I met him. Yet I loved him more than I’ve ever loved anyone.
I just don’t understand. Why did I have to fall for such a loser? Why do I still have to care so fucking much?
My time is completely consumed by thoughts of him: memories and nightmares, dreams and fantasies. I still hold on to the possibility that I will be worth it for him to turn his life around, and that he’ll come back for me.
Though in the back of my mind, I’m sure he’s trying to forget about me. He told all of his friends that I’m just a crazy bitch and made up some bullshit lies that make him look normal. They’ll buy it too, and for some reason that tears me apart. I don’t care about his friends. They’re fucking losers too. So why do I care what they think of me?
I guess I just want everyone to see that I really loved him, but that he didn’t really ever care. That I always deserved better, but stuck around because I believed in him when no one else did. I continue to believe in him even after everything he’s done to me and put me through
I just miss him so much. I’m heart broken that it didn’t work out.

I hate that we fought so much. That’s the only thing that ruined us. We got jealous of each other. I think if that had never happened, he would have been okay. He would have trusted me and wanted to do better for the both of us.
God.
I was about to fucking move out with him.

I’m so sick of thinking about him and caring. And talking about him. It’s all I ever do. I just whine and cry about how hard this has become, how hard it has been for the last two and a half years. I’m really sorry for that. I just don’t know how to make it stop.
I wish I knew how to make it stop.

I just want to know what he’s thinking of.
I hope he’s thinking of me, and how bad he fucked up.
I don’t want him to hate me though.

How fucking pathetic.

When I practically lived with him everything was almost perfect, and then we got into our first huge fight, and everything went to shit.
What happened?
Why did it have to change?
And why was it at my expense?
Why am I the only one curling up into a ball and crying until I make myself sick?
Why am I the one spending all of my time alone wondering why this had to happen? When he’s probably inside a jail cell figuring out how he’s going to find me as soon as you get out in order to continue to make my life miserable.
Instead of making a change.

I hope I’m wrong about that. I really, really do.

I went from not crying at all to crying at least twice a day.
Not just crying, but bawling, sobbing.

I just don’t want to be lonely anymore.
This all wouldn’t be do bad if I had someone.
I want someone to mean it when they tell me that it’ll be okay, and tickle my skin.
That’s literally all that I want.

I feel motivated.

Every time someone dies I wonder why it’s not me.

I always envision myself strangling people or hitting them over the head with things, and then I think about how much better I would feel if I actually did those things.

She just draws shit all over her notes the time. Just shitty little doodles, but they’re actually masterpieces.
Seeing what she does makes me want to draw again. I want to be passionate about something other than emotions.
I really have talent, I just don’t use it, and that frustrates me.