73.

I need help.

72.

I lost myself.

It's like I'm not even here anymore.

I miss my body.

71.

I'm not sure what you want for me, but I already know

that when you start getting to know me, you'll be scared

off. You're new, which is exciting for me, but I'm not new

enough to believe everything you're telling me.

People always lie.

I'm tired, and I've lost what I loved about waking up in

the morning. Motivation gone, and these people and places

never change, never grasp at anything other than what

is handed to them. I want something else.

People are never surprises.

And you proved me right. You're so vain, I bet you think this is about you.

I've never felt uglier, more human, and weak.

Right now, I just need you to tell me you think I'm beautiful.

70.

My heart hurts.

And I saw it coming.

And I warned myself.

And I didn't listen.

And my heart hurts.

And it fucking sucks, for lack of a better vocabulary.

You have no idea.

69.

I'm losing connection with everything and everyone I

know, and I'm not sure how to find everything and everyone

again.

I'm depressed, but not normal depressed, the kind that scares me

because I've been here before and it ended with me swallowing

a bottle of pills.

I'm exhausted, I don't want to move. I don't have anyone

to talk to, because everyone is gone, or dealing with their own

shit.

I'm afraid of bothering people, or scaring them. I was doing well.

I'm afraid to eat. I hate that people notice that I don't eat, and comment

on it. I would too, though.

I'm scared, and I'm lonely, and I'm confined by the awful things

I think. I don't know what I'm supposed to do, or how I'm going to

stop this.

68.

Back to work, and my bones ache

eating less than using,

and my god, I want a cigarette (but I won't have one)

so there it is.

Waiting for good news, always

but I don't get a lot of it. I miss my family

(I depend too much on them)

and solid ground.

I can feel my bones again.

67.

I don't know what you want me to say.