As i sit staring out my window at the slow, patient snow that is finally sticking to the ground, everything seems calmer. My heart beat has slowed to a just bareable pace, and everything in me relaxes. I feel no warmth, no happiness, and there is no where else I'd rather be, only because there is no one and/or no where else to go. My subconscience is pulling me in 2 directions, the way i feel about now, and everything that goes along with that, and back to my past where a miniscule part of me yearns to go. I would almost want to put up with the active suffering, just so someone could tell me my pain means somethign to them, where at least a few people cared what i felt and what happened to me. Even if it was never the one i truely needed. In this tiny town in which i reside, there is no place which i can call home. Though i yearn for somewhere to call home, in all my years ive been alive, ive realized it is not a necessity, you do not need it to keep living, to keep moving, you do not need it like you need food, air, water, and heat. I survive on so little, and physically dont need much more. I am alien to even myself, no longer recognizing the person in the mirror. I still have the same pale skin, dark eyes, dark hair, same facial features, but someone i dont know, is staring back at me, trying to figure out where to run to next. Now everything is turning some shade of grey. I live on auto-pilot more than ever, and somehow cleaning has become my complusion, as if cleaning and fixing everything around me will help me fix me. As cliche as this sounds there is a picture in my head where standing there, my eyes dark, and blackened with tears, blood everywhere, knife on the floor, and my heart is literally in my hands. The only expression on my face is fear, and desperation, because it fears that no one will ever take it, and theorhetically mend it. I'm holding it out, asking for it to be taken, and cared for like i cannot myself. It's still somehow beating, and there is a hole in my chest where it is supposed to be, waiting for someone to give me theres, to fill the space, the emptiness, so i might be whole again, as if ive ever been whole. My ultimate fear is loneliness and abandonment, though ive experienced it all my life, I want to be independent, and be able to stand on my own, but I cant, at least not without slowly dying from the inside out. The fatigue is coming back full strength and i want to surrender to it. A release of tension, of pain, of wanting, needing, bleeding for something i cant and dont have. But now when i can actually remember my dreams, its of my end, and every scenerio following, who would come, who would cry, who will it affect for the rest of their lives because i'm no longer there. Death is to easy an answer, death brings more sorrow to an already depressing existance. I dont think i could put the few people that might actaully care for me through the pain ive endured so many times before. The pain, the lack of reasons, the emptiness, that follows for minutes, hours, days, monthes, and years afterwards. So little resolve is ever found, and so few questions ever answered....