It's killing you, isn't it?

I'm sorry. I'm more sorry than you'll ever know. Now, I'm not talking to someone that I'm hoping will read this, I'm talking to you. Just you. This is for you. I know you wish it wouldn't do this. You wish it wouldn't destroy you like this, and again I'm so sorry. It's hard. It's so hard, and it hurts even more. I know it's not okay now. People will tell you it's okay or you'll tell them it's okay and we all know that's a lie. This, right now, is no where near okay. But I promise you it will be. Now, even I don't fully believe that, so I'm not expecting you to, but please, please listen. We need to believe that.

I'm so very sorry for this, for what's going on, I truly, 100% am. But we need to know, eventually, it'll be okay. Pinky swear.

I'm trying to think of a moment when I felt alive and it's hard. Maybe because I've been stuck in so much pain for what seems like years I've lost what it felt like to be alive. I guess I could consider the little things, going to see friends that care and joke and are happy make me feel somewhat alive. I don't feel dead or numb so I guess it's a start. Seeing the kids run and play can help but iy doesn't help every time. Sometimes it just makes things worse. Day dreaming about him and me can get my blood pumping and feeling better. Seeing him too. But maybe those are just distractions I give myself because I'm afraid of feeling truly dead. If this isn't it already, I don't want to find out what is.

You know those moments when you're so fucking angry? When you just want to throw something against the wall but you're too emotionally drained to even bawl?

That's me.

You know when people are constantly talking to you but you want someone random to say something to you out of the blue? To let them know they're thinking about you?

That's me.

You know those times when you want to breakdown? But you've already chosen to be lost and never be found?

That's me.

You know when people are telling you they care and that they'll always be there? But you know they're a bunch of liars and you're tired of being burned from other people's fires?

That's me.

There's nothing left in me

I'm lonely

I know no one can see

that they're destroying me

I read over the words you've wrote.

I love you

I love you

I love you...

over and over and over.

Every time I do

I get a chilling sensation up my spine and an unexplainable amount of butterflies fluttering inside my stomach and mind

my arms and legs become numb

as if my physical body knows something's up

but my heart's not dumb

It won't be fooled by my attempts to stay calm

It begins to race

without my consent

All I can picture is your face forming the very words that might make me hellbent.

"I think I'm falling in love with you"

is all I can see

and those emotionless words staring back at me.

But I know they're not fake

You wouldn't joke around like this with so much at stake.

Imagine what we could do.

Paint combined with ink.

Doodles within chicken-scratch.

Color with black and white.

Images with words.

Touch your hand to mine and let our inner passions collide.

Let us mix together until we make a masterpiece. All our true colors and thoughts. Mixing up till they're one.

Imagine all the possibilities for a painter and writer.