Dear Friend, (7/30/10)

My last attempt to reach out to you was a joke, a half-assed attempt. I'm sorry. It'll take me a bit to get back into the swing of things.

I'm sitting here crying.

Why?

Because I'm sick of pretending that I don't want to be cared about. And I'm sick of pretending that I'm not as messed up as I really am.


I would like to be able to scream at you, "You did this to me! This is YOUR fault!"


But it's not.

Whose fault is it then?
Mine?




Is this all just a waste of time an energy?


Too many questions,
and not enough answers.


"Oh my dear, I can feel you here
Oh my dear, I can feel you everywhere."


Goodbye, I guess--
Erika