Some of you may think you know me. A lot of you may even claim to care.
I am just a girl. I do not claim to be anything more. I do not mean a thing to anyone in this world. I will never change anyone for the better. I will never save anyone. How can I, if i cant even save myself?
Why do people do it? Is it for attention? A final cry of desperation, a silent plead for help that no one hears? Last week I lost all inspiration. I can barely even force myself to bring a pen to the page. I cant sleep...I cant breathe... The only thing that keeps my head up is my baby, telling me he loves me. I know that he means it. He's the only one who ever meant it.
Anyone who has read anything knows: I am afflicted with a deep, twisted darkness. It fills me up wholly. Once I took these shadows out upon myself. Then I turned them to the page. Now...now I dont even have that.
I would like to believe it will get better. Once they told me I could be a great writer, if only I didnt think so much when I did it. So please, please, forgive me. Hold my hand. Wipe my tears.