blood and tears

Why is it so hard for me to be in a room full of people who, at the moment, have nothing but superficial cares? Their biggest concerns are how late the food is or who won the game. . . but I'm there, in the middle of it all, feeling so much pain all I can do is cut myself for relief?


When some people die its a tragedy, but for a few of us, its more like an answer to prayer.


I wish I could be happy for my friends, but the ugly, honest truth is I'm not. I'm bitter and jealous and mad and. . . scared. That's the hardest to own, but the truth is I'm absolutely terrified.