"What is this mangled, oozing, empty peice of nothing stuck all over your beautiful peice of art?"

That is my peice of art.

I'm very hungry, and thus feel a little like vomiting, but not so much like eating.

I"m trying to be okay about it. I'm trying to say go do your thing and have a smile about it, but I am failing. Maybe I am such a mess because I am still in love with you, trying to recover from whatever it is i'm suffering from, blowing all my hope to peices because I know it doesn't mean a thing anymore, and dying inside because you are unphased by everything. Did it mean so little that you can be completely unphased?

I'm trying not to be paranoid even though they tell me you are doing this on purpose, just for kicks, just to prove something ,and I'd rather not believe that. Maybe I'm fighting with myself. Maybe i"m battling over wether I want to hold on to everything and stay in the background waiting like I promised I would, and wanting to forget everything and send all the promises I made to hell because promises dont mean much anyway. Maybe I'm having trouble understanding how if everything meant anything, you could sit there and be completely unphased.

And maybe I'm having trouble watching you grow so close to someone you told me reminded you of the girl who broke your heart, and that you had to leave me to figure things out, and how I'm not supposed to wonder if you left me for someone else.

Maybe I"m confused and I don't have much of a release for any of it because I can't go to my best friend, because I'm still trying to figure out how to just be his best friend again, and how I"m just supposed to go on pretending when I gave you everything. I don't have anything left to hold on to, and I'm having some trouble with that okay?

Perhaps I am whiney, and bitchy, and moody and unpleasant to be around, but dammit, I'm not the only one who thinks its a little bit cruel to spend all your time with some girl not two days after you just randomly dump the person who swore they'd marry you and do anything to make you happy, and gave you everything when I've never given anyone anything before. You had me so convinced...

And at the end of every thought, at the end of every paragraph, every sentence, every single word, I think about what I"m saying and I hate myself for it. i want to saw my own hands off sometimes just so I can't write shit like this anymore. I hate myself everytime I think about something like this, because I know I don't mean a word of it, and I know I'm still just holding onto some stupid dream that doesn't mean a thing to you anymore. I hate myself in the morning for hating everything else at night. I don't mean any of it... thats why I never want to tell you whats bothering me, because I explode into these little tantrum laced fits of jealousy that are pointless and meaningless.

We swore we'd always be sisters, but we swore a lot, didn't we? We knew we'd be okay, but we KNEW everything else didn't we? If I can't have my love back, I would like my sister, but I won't force you to be my friend if you want other things. All I'm doing is tormenting you anyway. You went back to just friends a long time ago, but I kept holding on...I told you I would fight for you, even if it meant I had to be fighting from the outside. I meant that part. I meant the things I said Saturday night after the fair. I hoped, but I knew better. I knew that that night was the last time we would be together, just us. I knew, so why would I say anything I didn't mean, if I knew? I wouldn't.

Yes, I am having trouble. A lot of trouble, But I'm still doing things that nobody in history will likely do for you. I'm still just hoping you'll be my friend. I never once asked you to take me back, I never begged you, I never begged God, I never cried to anyone about how I wanted you to take me back, and I never will. Its not fair of me to want that much from you, and its not fair of you to give me anything if you can't give me anything. I love my zombie, but I will never beg him.

I will never hate you. I will never tell you that you are an ass, and I will never demand that you are wrong. If you don't still feel it, its not right, and you aren't an ass for feeling. You aren't an ass for telling me, and you don't make my life miserable.

I will never stop caring about you, and I will never wish you are unhappy. I'll always call you sister, even if you don't want to call me friend. I will never wish angry, vengeful things on you, and I will always be around, if you'll have me. I will never say I told you so.

I won't keep secrets. You know that someday I'll let you read that notebook. But I won't make you do it. I will try never to tell you things I don't mean to your face, and I will not try to intentionally make you feel shitty.

I will never be angry at you for what happened. I wasn't when It happened, and till the day I die, I won't be angry.

These are glimpses into what I write. some things sound so angry, but in the end, theres always something lovely about you.

I dont know how to end this journal. I don't even think I want to post it, really. Hmm...

The truth is, you could slit my throat, and with my one last gasping breath, I would apologize for bleeding on your shirt.

Accept my apology, believe that I am sorry for everything I do to you. I'll ask you to believe me, but I won't expect you to forgive me.