... : 10.15.03 @ 8:49 pm

There she goes again.

Complaining.

Does she have anything better to do?

I'm lonely, stressed, angry, hormonal, and slightly pissed.

And I can't even write this without seeming (to myself) that what I want is attention, which is not so.

Wait. No. I'm a liar. It is. It is what I want. I want someone to really listen to what I'm saying. I want someone to really hug me when they hug me. I want someone just one person in this world that I do not feel the need to doubt their feelings for me, that I do not feel the need to second guess their words. Someone who makes me feel completely and utterly at ease, with whom I can be myself in all aspects.

Someone to listen to my bitching, reassure me, then cuddle with me until we fall asleep together.

It's not that I'm not surrounded by people, aquaintences, who smile and stop to talk in the hallway.

It's that I can't help but wonder how they really feel about me.

So the problem lies in me, not them.

But really... is one person really too much to ask of fate?

Is it really too much to ask to have just a few of the big important things go my way for once?

I wish I could ask my Mum about seeing a psychologist again. But it'd do nothing but make her wonder if I'm cutting again, and I'm not.

And we can't afford it.

I'm still seeing bills from my old psych peeking through the insurance letters.

Not that it really matters anyway. It didn't help much last time around.

But that was my fault as well. I never showed her this side, the side that wants nothing more then to curl up in my bed and stay there, alone, until my body rots into the mattress and I decompose into the nothing that I feel.

/A

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