Nothing but nonsense.

I'm starting to hate myself more and more everyday.

I called my father, all worked up, hoping to find reassurance in his words. Honestly, what I wanted to hear was, "I'm sorry. I'm sorry for putting you in this position and I will fix it." But all I got were empty words and I never felt so alone as I sat in my room and listened to my mother's muffled sobs from downstairs.

I keep losing followers, and I'm kind of glad for that. These posts are just for me to get my thoughts out. I don't expect anyone to read them.

I wonder what happened the past two weeks. You sounded distant, or sad, and I thought it was just me, but now I think maybe something was wrong with you. I can't stand the thought of you being sincerely sad. You're back to normal now, so I hope you solved whatever problem you had. My thoughts have been so jumbled lately. It's your fault. You rearrange the words in my head with just a glance, just a smile. Your eyes, that smile are ingrained in my memory—such a sweet image that comes to me when I lose myself. I wish I could call you mine, even if only in my own mind, because I'm already all yours; you just need to claim me.

You're slipping away, and I'm starting to hate myself for that because it must be the outcome of my own faults.

She holds herself low, keeping her head down as she struggles to breathe. Both her body and her mind are deteriorating, or so it appears from her incessant ill attitude. She's sick of trying, and now she's broken on the inside; her ribcage is bending inward and her eyes are becoming swollen. What is it she seeks? She refuses to answer outspoken and instead offers the same words as always, "I just don't care anymore." There's something about her I can't explain that brings out an instinct inside of me to protect her. Maybe it's the way she seems so fragile, or the way she's ostracized for no apparent reason. She is hopeless in the sense that she doesn't believe in things changing for the better. Everything stays as it is or gets worse and maybe that's all she's ever known. She's a complete mess, glass shattered on the concrete. Nobody can put back the pieces because she doesn't allow them to; she cuts their fingers with her sharp edges. That restoration is a task that only she can complete, but she's given up. She hates herself. She has marks on her body from the countless times she took a burning cigarette to her skin. She keeps her head down and doesn't bother pretending anymore. She is the girl who is in love with me.

I think I just realized my favorite thing about you. For the longest time, I've been surrounded by people who are incredibly broken. They come to me crying often, and I try to comfort them with words they hear as empty. I'm always playing a guardian angel to people, but a failing one, because these people are too engrossed in their sadness to open their eyes and pick themselves up. But you—you are the brightest star shining through those gloomy clouds. You have your insecurities and problems just as everyone else does, but you don't let them destroy you. You're able to stay on your feet, and sincerely smile, laugh, and make others laugh. Your cheerful attitude emanates off of you and I soak it in straight into my heart. I never would've thought I'd talk to you after admiring you from afar for so long, but it's so nice to have you in my life.

She's in love with her who's in love with me who's got my eyes on someone else. What a mess.

Seriously...the fact that you brought a pencil (when you never use pencils) just so I could break it for our inside joke....and you played keep away so that I'd jump on you. Why are you so cute.

I hope one day, you'll be brave enough. Because I really don't mind the secrecy, if it's for you.

You called me at midnight just to say Happy New Year. Your voice was the first voice I heard of the year.