The Ripped Soul

Still alive. More miserable than ever. This entire week has been nothing but me crying, not sleeping, running everywhere and shifting shit all over the place.

I'm tired of being uncomfortable like this. I need my fortress of solitude. I don't want to live with relatives, I don't want to stay with family members.. it's troublesome and tiring and frustrating. I like freedom, not being caged up like a fucking bird.

Plus the reason why I drifted away all those years was because of the drama that comes with all these shit. I don't need it anymore. People need to understand that. Mom needs to understand that. But if I were to say anything, I get told off that I need to be put in my place. So, silence, even though not exactly golden.. is what's always appropriate.

I hate silence.

Then I'm always the one with the answers.. this time it feels like I'm the mathematician that can't solve the maths problem. It's driving me fucking nuts.

I'm still alone, still lonely. Not a word heard from Shea.. not even an "I miss you."

I miss her though, I do.. my memories still bring me back to that motel room, to Johnny Rockets, to Step Up 3D.. I fucking miss her guts.

Sigh..