You know that feeling of useless, empty, aloneness? I mean, I know deep down I'm not technically alone, and lots of people care. But I feel so fucking empty. I don't have purpose. I AM TRYING SO HARD. Crying every night, feeling sick, everything hurts. Why love when hating myself is so much fucking easier at this point. Do Not look at me and say my life is fucking easy. Breathing hurts. I pay my own fucking bills. I pay rent. I buy my own food. I am 21 at 17 and it's hell. I am not prepared for any of this. I am trying my best but even on good days I still can hardly think. I can hardly look at myself some days. I am slowly falling apart. Every night is a new battle against suicide and loneliness. Thinking maybe if I throw up, maybe if I cut, it'll go away, feel better, feel less real. But It's not even worth it. Life goes on. I just... I'm trying okay... Please don't hurt me more then I already hurt. Hurt myself and others.
I miss intimacy. I miss waking up and wanting nothing more then to place my lips against another persons soft skin. I miss feeling in closed in endless love when I sleep. I miss holding the hand of someone who's heart beat I shared threw just the smallest touch. I the I love you's. I miss the simple pleasure of hearing a lovers chest rise and fall. I miss felling my knees go weak when they asked me if I loved them. I miss kissing. Touching. Tender moments I can't get back. I miss feeling wanted.