I want the part of you that you refuse to give.

I don't love him, & he definitely doesn't love me. Still, he semi-fills a gaping black hole inside me. That place wants love, maybe even needs love, but love is something I"m pretty sure doesn't exist.

Eventually, it becomes a matter of scale. When the good outweighs the bad, you stay. When the bad is the only thing you notice anymore, you think about your future, or what's left of it, consider options.

I'd like to cry now. Don't know how.

Many readers share their stories with me and if one speaks to me (or if the same theme keeps coming at me), I will research it and decide if it would make a good book. But, straight down to it, people inspire me.

But then, my entire life is bullshit. The best things in it have vanished, ghosts. Ghosts I'll admit I created.

How can I explain purposely setting foot on a path so blatantly treacherous? Was the fun in the fall?