I haven't been sleeping too well lately. I got three hours of sleep last night. I was up doing homework until 1:30, but the rest of the time was just wasted laying in the dark or staring out my open window at the lonely night. There's nothing like the darkness and silence of the night to remind me that I'm truely alone. I am alone, and I have no one in the world who truely understands. But then the sun rises. Then a new song plays and I'm forced to start the day. The horrors of the night are left behind, at least for the remainder of the Daylight. The day is when I can be happy. I can surround myself with people before they leave me behind, for the night. The night unleashes a monster. I am a creature hated by God and rejected by everything else. My body is bruised, beaten, cut and tormented by the wrath of love, fear, and faith. It has morphed me into something I no longer recognize. If I can't understand myself, how could anyone ever understand me? I should just stop expecting them to. The monster tells me to pick up the blade, to push it in deep, and to feel the pain. But the angel of the day tells me to drop it, rest my eyes, and hide away. I'm scared. I no longer know the difference between right and wrong, day and night. I can't rest my eyes, for there is a great battle to unfold. Should I let it enfold me? Should I succumb to what feels easy, or stick to what is true? And what is true? I contemplate my battle strategies. I could surrender to the monster, and give up myself forever. But the sun will be rising soon. What will happen to the monster in the Daylight? Will it swallow back into the shadows if I unleash it now? For months I've kept it under control. I can last one more night. A few more hours and I will be safe again. A few more hours until Daylight. I haven't been sleeping well lately. Reply if you're out there.

It would be nice to feel loved, But it's better to get laid. Because getting laid is easier to cope with since the feeling of being used is mutual and you don't have the word "love" tying you down. We are all dancers in this masquerade. We lie to get what we want. We trade feeling clean for feeling pleasure. And when they come back, we do it all over again. Why? For the chance that this time it might be something more than just physical connection. Everytime I tell myself: I love him, so he might love me too. Everytime I tell him: I'm yours, use me at your will. Because being used is easier than being loved. Being loved is something I will never feel again. Might as well give up now and surrender it all. What am I waiting for? Someone to take off their mask for me? Someone to pull me off of the dance floor? I've been waiting forever, and it will never come. Being used is easier than being loved.

Religion is hopeless to me. Everybody is a hypocrite and I see through their masks. They tell me how much I've sinned and they point their fingers, but they should be more concerned about themselves. I have never met someone from the church that truely loves with their heart and accepts everyone for being the way God made them. Everybody wants to fix me. They tell me I should be looking for God. They say I need to pray, to repent, to change. But I don't want to change. I almost like the way I am. I'm comfortable with myself this way. I'm almost happy. And what part did God have in that? I don't mean to sound bitter, I still love God, I think. It's just that I"m not sure if he abandoned me or if I abandoned him. Who cares? I know he's there if I want him, so I guess that meas I abandoned him. Well I can always go back if I get scared. Once again, I have pushed away someone I let in. I'm really no good at relationships. With God, with guys, with girls, it's all the same. They don't last. They're great for a few months, then things kinda fall apart and I don't want to be left again, so I leave them before they can leave me. Damn. Well that's what they made therapy for right?

Sometimes, I'm scared to go to bed because I know i'm just going to wake up. Sometimes, I want so badly to tell people that I love them, but I know they will just leave me in the end. Sometimes, I want to kill the next fucking person that asks me if I'm ok. They know I'm not and they're just asking to make themselves feel like they helped me. Sometimes, I just don't want to talk about it. Because nobody wants to listen when there really is something to talk about. Sometimes, I miss them. But then I feel the gaping hole in my back that they stabbed the fuck out of... Sometimes, I get so fed up with adolescence. I just want to grow up already. Sometimes, I wish I just had a friend that would call me their friend too. Sometimes, It would be nice to feel loved. Sometimes, I just want to fuck my life up and have it be over. Sometimes, I want to someone to fuck it up with. Sometimes, I want to go back. But I have business here to take care of. Sometimes, I want to drown myself in music and never go out of the house, unless I'm buying more albums. Sometimes, I want to leave my home and never come back. It's over.

A few nights ago I was walking under the stars and as I looked up, I said to myself "What has my life become?" I walk these empty streets, but I'm not really there. I pull out my lighter and another cigarette. My esophagous is on fire as I inhale the smoke and taste it's breath upon my tongue. This is what I wanted, right? I wanted to live here. It was my choice. I wanted this cigarette. If I loved it so much, why did I ever quit? Was it their cancer? Was it their fucked up life? No. I think it was the guilt. The thirst for something more than this. Because cigarettes won't fix my problems. They're not going to make me visible again. I'm still a gohst to this world that I left behind. But I had to leave. That night was so much more than a few cigarettes. It was the night I would leave everything behind.

All I do is sit here. Can't sleep. Can't eat. I take those pills at the same time every night. Why do they have to love me? Now it has to end, for I can't love them back. It's become like routine, pushing them away. What if they leave me again? Another grave, a back turned, a promise broken. They said they'd always be there for me, they said "call me when you get your shit together." They called me crazy. And they tell me to love? No thanks. Love is not worth it. Love is not forever. Is anything worth it? And if love isn't forever, what is? People certainly aren't, I learned that one out the hard way. Friends can't be, they left one too many times. Is God forever? Has he left me? Or have I left him? Do I even remember what it feels like to pray? I used to pray for them. To heal. To listen. To stay. It's my fault anyway. I push them away. I won't stop. So I won't love. I'll take a breath, Shed a tear, Pop another, Cut deeper. The holes that they left will be filled by the gohsts of past relationships and the memory of a time when I knew happiness. But happiness isn't forever. And this sickness is a plague