Have you ever had that drive? So compelling, its wrong ,and you know that, but the process will be rewarding, the aftermath will be dripping with shame. There's no one to talk to, no one on the other end of the phone line, just a dead noise. Dead as I am inside. What could I even tell you about this? Tell you I crave this day and night, lying to the ones who try to help me. Knowing the cure is so damn close to me, yet on so many levels it is unattainable. I'm screaming for this, for the release of this fucking pain. I'm sick of trying to be someone I'm not. I'm sick of not being able to write. I'm sick of being so goddamn lonely every night. I hate smiling and pretending I mean it. I love how expensive objects make me happy, money makes me happy. Fuck you for leaving us, and fuck you for leaving us without all the material objects we once had. I need money to make me happy, buying things gives me a sense of self-worth I can't create on my own.

I believe with my full heart, that I am slipping farther and farther away from this world.