I just wrote an entire entry and erased it. It was so stupid. I hate reading the things I've written, for the most part. I hate trying to express something, but it wont come into words, only deep breaths and glares at the wall. I hate being so angry you can't speak, but all you want to do is scream and scream and scream.

I hate spending so much time on this. I hate fucking around with my emotions, and I hate it even more when YOU do. I just want you to be here so I can hold you and everything will be alright. But I'm afraid you're not looking for a relationship, I'm afraid of getting hurt and I'm afraid of being fucked up and over. I don't need to feel that way. If it means becoming a shell, so be it. I'd rather be a shell than a fool with her heart on her sleeve.

They say you never forget your first love. And I don't know who the fuck they are, but they're goddamn right. You never do. It goes from a throbbing, incomprehensible pain, a hurt so deep and so pure you can't breathe or sleep or speak, to a sharp pulse in your chest, a choked back sob or six thousand, to a dull ache, a scar that has never correctly healed, a wound you didn't know how to nurture so now you're stuck with it.

"Time passes. Even when it seems impossible. Even when each tick of the second hand aches like the pulse of blood behind a bruise. It passes unevenly, in strange lurches and dragging lulls, but pass it does. Even for me."