citroens

I am one of 80 or 90 emails to "sort through".

That must qualify as the point of the chisel slowly chipping through my spirit.

Lending it strength...my father would rather leave the country than visit me (visiting me is too expensive, you know) and my brothers consider themselves best friends but wonapos;t return my phone calls because I love my father (because heapos;s a bastard I shouldnapos;t love him as much as I do, isnapos;t it obvious how terrible he is?).

I tell the truth when asked for it and am reviled and shunned for it by so-called-friends that profess love...over and over and over again.

Each time I am ignored, each time I am lost in the masses, each time I am pushed aside for the greater pleasures to be found elsewhere, I die a little bit inside.

These are not idle acquaintances or friendships. These are, or were, deep loving relationships whether they are friends or family. I love these people with everything I am. EVERYTHING I am. I feel almost utterly worthless right now.

I have 11 visible scars on my left arm and 5 on my right. And if it werenapos;t for Ray, who is my armor and shield, I would have several more tonight.

I no longer wonder why he never wants anyone around but me. I no longer wonder why itapos;s so much better to stay home. Itapos;s safer. Itapos;s more comfortable. Itapos;s peaceful and loving and enveloping with each other.

Somehow, that realization doesnapos;t bring balm to the outside hurts, although I know they will fade away and scar with time just like the real wounds and real scars on my body.

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