When I look down at my hands, I feel terribly sad. It isn't the thought of my fingernails or the creases in my fingers; rather, it is the fact that nobody wants to fill the spaces between my fingers. Every shot that I take misses, every move that I make breaks me in half. The torment isn't worth the struggle. Or perhaps the struggle isn't worth the torment. I walk through life like a zombie, and nothing makes it worthwhile to come back to life. I havent felt anything in ages, and even when I used to think that I actually had were all a lie.
Everything that I am is heartbroken and lonely; I treasure the people that have enough consideration to simply respond to my words. I have marked them as my best friends because they don't ignore me. Is this right? Am I sane? Who have I become that people don't even wish to talk to me? Every single day, I fight the urge to rebel and get out of this hole that I live in, but I try to leave these thoughts in my head. If I dared to tell someone how I felt, I would be told to stop complaining. I can't help it! I need someone to hold me, I am impatient to find the one who will love me unconditionally.
I don't wish to be alone when I watch the sun rise and set continuously. Sunsets are when I feel most abandoned on this ship we call life. I wish to jump overboard, into the choppy ocean waters, but I need someone to laugh with before I do it. I laugh at my own jokes because there is no one around to laugh at them with me. I talk to objects because there is no one around to talk to. I ask myself who I am, and I tell myself that I am still Amy, and I am still awesome. Who have I become that I have been forced to lie to myself?
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