5-20-07 immense thinking on the life that's left

I don't write nearly as much as I want to, nor as fluidly or articulatly as I would like. I want my words to fly off the paper and into your mind, gripping its way with claws that grasp and drag. I want to find a point of discussion that I can argue about passionatly until you agree with me because I'm that damn good. I want to crack open my skull and feed all my thoughts to you just so you can comprehend the immense weight that has now been lifted. I want you to feel the guilt I feel when I don't make my parents proud on a daily basis, take a dose of reality and never see the doctor again. It's only an excuse to tell yourself you're not to tell yourself you're not well. Stuck at the bottom and the waters slowly rising. You crane your neck up and try to see the light, but it hurts too much so instead you float your way to the top. I want to be free in a way that isn't even possible. To dust off the shelves of my mind and recall old momories of a time when everything seemed perfect and out of place. When I lost all faith only to regain it in myself, little by little. I'm still afraid, and I want you to hold my hand like I was a little girl again and not this thing I've turned into. But there is no YOU in my life, I'm only talking to paper. And it leaves me as hollow as I was before.

- 12:55 a.m.