((i found a dark place))

why do i write?
I write because it frees my wrist of all the scarring, all the blood, and all of the continuing hurt that my physical pain brings on me. I write about my past because its just one more step at letting it all go, and i did...Matt is gone from my heart, only his memory remains...and just the happy memories, the hard memories exists, only because i have to learn from my mistakes and from my heartbreak. I feel like my whole entire soul is expressed through my words, but when no one is around to listen...i find comfort in writing. I am amazed by how my thoughts flow when i go back and read everything that i have written. I am almost always suprised at how i can describe moments in my life and how everything can come together so perfectly with words. I write because i made a promise, a promise that will be broken soon, and when i go to break that secret i will do everything to cover up my downfall. But my wrists will bleed with the blood that HE deserved. The blood shall shed for the love that i have lost, for the boi that was supposed to marry, the boi that was i was so captivated by. He deserves the deepest scar on my wrist...

...and i find myself not being able to cry over him. But i can feel it building up, i can feel it thriving inside of me, and when i break i promise it will be the most broken i will ever have been. Because this time the initial impact of the beginning didnt phase me, but the time will come to mourn...and when i do it will be a dark place. A horrible place that i thought i woud never be agian....but i can feel it coming.
I just feel like i really messed it up....like this place that i have become is all my fault. I thought i had it all figured out, but when you lose someone you love then it all becomes real...reality just kiks in. And here i am totally alone, and im trying to train myself to be ok with alone, but its looking like a hard long road. I wish that i could talk to him, but i am so afraid of getting re-attached and hurting him agian. Looking at who i am...hurting him again would be inevitable. I miss human touch, i miss his kisses...and when i walk around i feel like im going to be alone for a lifetime. Maybe thats how i was meant to live...in the silence...with no one, and when i want kids maybe i will be better off a single parent.
I just trying to build myself up soo strong, i feel like the fear of being alone is the only thing holding me back in my life...i feel like thats the one thing that i cant overcome, and if i overcame it i would be unstoppable.
I am very much enjoying writing down what i believe in a solid journal. I enjoy interpreting the Bible and being soild on my opinon. I can feel God guiding my words as i write down my spiritual walk in life...and what makes sense to believe in. The truth.

Suicide - Its been on my mind, ever since i was in middle school, on and off. But now its more on then off. I have this HUGE burden on my shoulder to live up to this high expectation . I have to get good grades, and right now im just not living up to my own expectations. I feel like im always letting my friends down, i just dont feel like a good enough person when i look at myself in the mirror. Everyday is this growing battle agianst the mirror, and i feel horrible about feeling horrible. My self esteem is affecting everything that i do in my life, and now its affecting my friends and my love life. I wish that i could just wake up and feel perfect, good enough, better then what im thinking in my own mind. I push people away because i cant see the good in myself. I feel like ending my life...it just seems like the logical decision...the less stressful way to live is not to live at all. It may be selfish....but how is it selfish when im a dissapointment to begin with, when no one is here to hold my hand, when i cant pull the grades that i should be. Im broken...and i cant be fixed, i have it in for myself, and bleeding out in the shower would solve all this suffereing. The boi i love wouldnt have to love me anymore, and i think thats really what means the most.

Hurting,
Taylor Anne Meester