04/23/2013

I had to talk to Lindsay today. Her cousin came into dominos and asked about us. I guess she didn’t know that she had broken up with me. She asked me how I was doing… All I could say was I woke up this morning, so i guess i’m better then some people. I always have such a negative outlook on things. I started crying moments after she left. I started the whole talking to myself, and punching walls, and what not. It’s weird how guys have habbits of punching walls when they are mad, and then they are left with both the hurt from the heartache and the hand. While I was throwing a childish temper tantrum my friend tim (who works there ) stopped me and tried to talk to me about a few things. I came clean about a few emotions… cried some more. Then lindsay texted me and said that brittnay had messaged her and told her that  I was scared about lindsay. I didn’t say anything of the sort. So I told her how I was feeling. I was honest, and open. I even told her that I don’t blame her for leaving a psycho like myself. I told her about how my mom found my diary… (long story… basically i had some entries printed out, and in my safe. My safe was open when she came here yesterday and read it. ) She seen that I had suicide notes ( that were old… but I never had the heart to throw them away because of the sheer emotion in them) she called my therapist, and set another apointment again. tomorrow morning I have to wake up and go see him. I know everyone thinks this might be a good idea, but getting back on a anti depressant right now isn’t what I want to happen. I hate depending on a pill to make me happy. talk about feeling fake, and whatnot. I want to be genuinely happy. not fake happy. anyway, the last message I got from her tonight was "do you still have suicidal thoughts" all I said back was "yes". I can’t lie to her. It’s not just her fault though. hell it shouldn’t be anyone but my own fault. 

They say if you are going to kill yourself you just do it… and that a lot of people use it for the attention. I can’t tell you the countless times I held a loaded gun to my head. waiting to feel man enough to just pull it. you get this relationship with the gun… it’s quiet, and listens to everything you have to say. then it has the power to end the pain. it has the power to erase all the memories. all the things that haunt me. gone. in a matter of seconds. I always fail. Just like in life. I can never pull through. the moments of silence I have for myself while I hold the gun are nerve racking. Time destroys people. it’s scary to think i might have the will power to someday finally squeeze that trigger. I’ve never really told anyone how many times I have done this. because honestly I lost count. I hurt… I miss being happy. I miss having things going for me. people tell me to do it on my own… and make things work. get an education… get a different job. These things take time.. jobs around here are slim to none, and I don’t want to move away from my mother right now. Not to mention I feel like a ticking time bomb.

i’m sad to say the least. I would do anything to have Amanda here holding my head between her lap while she strokes my hair and tells me everything is going to be okay. she used to be able to calm me down from anything. She always knew what to do to make me feel better. and as someone said on my last entry… no one will ever replace her… and they couldn’t be more right. She was one of a kind. I messed up bad. I’m a fool  for wanting her back, but damn me… That’s all I want.. she believed in me.

This pain seems like so much. I never knew I had so many tears to shed. Why do I have to be such a baby about things. all these guys just get over things in their lives. whether its a girl, a job, outlook on life. whatever it is… they always get thru it. Then there is me. It lingers.. it haunts. it stings. I don’t get on twitter anymore. I can’t stand to see how happy everyone is. How happy lindsay is. Every time I see her picture It just pushes the knife in deeper and deeper. Facebook I’m still friends with a lot of Amanda’s friends so I still see things about her… or pictures… She graduates this week. yet I’m sitting here balling my eyes out talking to a diary. Something that hardly anyone knows about. my mother and father only know about the printed entries. they don’t know about all the private entries. They don’t know about half the things I talk about on here. If I should go I would want it to be that way. I don’t want people to have an obscured view on me. I don’t want people to know how broken of a man I am. if I can even call myself a man.

I’ve been meaning to get back to the people who commented, and I am sorry. I’m such a terrible person for not responding.

I’m still alive. I’m badly beaten, bruised, the words… "I’ll love you forever" haunt me. how could she still love me if I was gone? how can she love me now? she doesn’t… the truth is no one loves me like that. I’m the only one that still loves her. until the day I die.