The stuff.

Right now, this second, it’s 11:47 on March 6th, 2011. By the time I submit this to be published, it will be the 7th.

One year today. It’s been one year since Reggie and I broke up, TODAY. How strange? One year ago today so many thoughts were streaming through my mind [still are]. It sucked. My gosh did 2010 suck so bad. 2011 isn’t really that far behind so far. Yeah. 

Nothing matters anyway. Why should it? Why do I have to care about anything anymore? Is it a law to care? No. I mean, I don’t really have like hardcore feelings for him anymore, but there’s still something there. And I believe there will ALWAYS be. Come on. It’s enough already. Seriously. 

He came over 630 and left by 9. All we did tonight was talk. Nothing else. We might be doing something next sunday. We will see.

Spring Break this week. I work tues,thurs,sat.

 Even though I’m going to school and such, I just feel like nothing is ever good enough. The truth is I was never a happy kid. Come on. I just put on an act. Think back to my childhood. I would always look so freekin miserable. I don’t know why because I had a nice childhood. Two parents. Two brothers. Friends. Pretty face. What was the problem? It was me. And it still is.

11:56pm Think about what YOU were doing a year ago today, right now. Were you happy? Were you sad? Did you feel complete?

I believe that I’ve never really felt complete. I mean, I don’t think I really know what that feels like.

How can you feel so lonely, yet there are millions of people out there? Answer me that one. How is that possible?

Maybe you feel the same way? If so, email me  

I love you guys.



Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s