The Ripped Soul

Saxophonerrr says:

Hey Jess.
Read your blog
._. I'm sorry Jess ><
I really hope things get better for you...Really..You don't deserve this..
Don't take offence to this
But
You still love her, yes.
And she..
Confuses you...Seems to...Lead you to thinking one thing then stabbing you with something else..Saying she can't be with you blahblah..but then she still loves you..
><>
I don't like seeing my friends, or anyone suffer...But my best friend..
To have seen you suffering for so long
*hugs* I'm sorry ._.
I wish I could make you feel better
If you ever want to tell me anything or just talk about anything
Anything at all
It could be from talking about cheeseburgers..Or talking about Jasmin..Doesn't matter what
And if there is anything I can do to help try and make you feel better
Let me know
I love you Jess
I'm always here for you, remember that
You're truly one of my best friends. : DD
Keep on hanging in there, Jess...You're a very strong person..I look up to you for that and many other things

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I love you, Elijah Brown. You truly are one of my best friends, and I am ever so grateful to have known you and to have you stick around in my life.

And it ain't just him.

For everyone that's been putting up with my shit, my emo-ness, my misery, my miserable self, and for the nights and days when I would get incredibly bitchy, I'm sorry. I love you guys dearly.

For my dear friends that have put up with my spontaneous outings and whinings.. even just for tau huay. Yeah, I'm talking about you Lyn. And Joce, even. For listening to me whine and bitch and cry, scream till I go mad, cry till the tears don't fall anymore.. for holding me close and telling me it will all be alright.. a lie it was, but who cares.

I love you guys dearly.

I'm sorry for being difficult. Everyone else probably swims through break ups and the aftermath easily, but here I am, suffering, torn to pieces, and still crying for things to go back to what was.

The urge to pick up smoking is overwhelming.
The urge to drink drunk is unbearable.

The whiskey and vodka at home looks tempting enough.

I don't know anymore.

It hurts still, it hurts very much. And I still look at my phone and wonder if she'll ever call and take me back again. I wonder if she ever misses me as much as I miss her. I wonder if she even thinks about me the way I think about her.

When there's a knock at the door, I actually hope it would be her. Ha. I'm an idiot, right? Yeah.

The only thing I have that distracts me is L4D and work. And even at work, when some songs play on the radio or when my colleagues or customers say stuff, the memory of her triggers all over again.

And it hurts me.
It hurts me, breaks me apart, tears me up so much inside...

I cry.
I cry in the darkness, away from prying eyes.
I cry under my hat.
I cry inside.
I cry alone.