Everything on here looks like myspace now, except more confusing. I miss the old xanga.

I die trying to give him all the things I wish he could give to me. For awhile, I tried this concept where any time I was really feeling like I needed something, I would give that to someone else. This has usually been a pretty good remedy. I need someone to tell me I'm beautiful? I figure, hey, someone else needs that too, so I'm going to tell them, etc. It was a good way to help someone else, and in the end, feel better...but this time, it just feels unfair.

Why can't you let me be a part of that world? I've asked, so many times. Do you think that because it's not my niche, I'm not interested? And who knows....I might be good at it, too, but you make me so scared to try. It shouldn't be a big deal, except this? My writing? That's what that world is to you. It reminds me of Finding Neverland, when she steals his journal and reads his play, and it breaks her heart to know that she's not in that world.

I hate the way this makes me....all I want to do is patronize you until you feel the way I feel, but I can never do that, ha. Because you aren't me. So what do I do?

I feel this way, and I write these words. And I think "he wouldn't do this...he would know what do to". And I run to him, and I bat my eyes, and it makes me sick.

And I hate myself for thinking that.

And I hate that you wouldn't have an opinion, if you knew.

Someone said to me once, "this is going to happen...there are going to be people and things that try to get in the way...but at the end of the day, you just have to remember that he picked you."

Yeah....why did you pick me?

But if I built you a city
Would you let me?
Would you tear it down?

But there you go for the last time
I finally know now what I should have known then
And I could still be ruthless if you let me
But there you go when I'm not done
You're waving goodbye well at least you're having fun
The rising tide will not let you forget me