So if anyone is reading this, stop stalking me and say so.
I like stalkers, they make me feel strangely loved.
So... random crap from my mind in it's depression.
Unfortunately, some of my best writings and drawings come from my depressed mind.
Sooo this is... Just something about someone I 'care' for who doesn't even exist.
Ah, the wonders of major depression and an overactive imagination.
Go ahead, tell me you'll leave again
You'll just come back running,
Holding your scarred heart in hand...
I guess the beginning is a good place to start, eh?
Life's been tough.
Oh, yeah, I know you're thinkin, "Well, my life' s been tough too" but you just dont know.
It didn't start with Jonathan, not at all.
It started with a dark-haired boy in my group of friends.
Freshman year.
Its when I first realized I was... a little ******** up in the head.
Hey, I just need you to listen, okay?
I dont need comments from the peanut gallery.
See, this boy and I worked at the same restauraunt.
I was the delivery boy and, in the short course of three months, he had become a cook.
He's an amazing person, but manipulative as all hell.
I think thats why I ended up loving him so damn much.
What, you thought this would be a story, a good story?
... sorry to disappoint.
I guess throughout highschool I battled my own demons and he battled his.
We're alike in a lot of ways, though we've grown from our experiences completely opposite of each other.
Black, blonde, blue, green, addicted, terrified.
Yeah, just a short list of the complete opposite aspects of us.
So we went though highschool, got out, and went our separate ways.
Where he went was a complete mystery.
Me?
I was nineteen, going on five.
Feh, so I brought my anorexic a** to college and got sucked into a band of epically failed proportions, using my skills on the keyboard to try and bring them out of the dark.
They couldn't even make it to their feet, did drugs every night, and did some pretty awful things to my confidence.
So I went home and returned to my dead-end job as a pizza boy.
I looked like s**t everyday, I turned to cutting as a form of release, and I had a waking nightmare.
Jonathan... came back.
It was the strangest thing, too.
He ordered a pizza.
And just like that, I was thrown back into the nightmare I had spent five years running from.
He tried to kill me.
Mmm-hmm.
And the cops thought I was crazy.
They found trace amounts of coke in my system.
Blamed it on me, and I told them all about Jonathan.
Still told me I was hallucinating.
He blew up my ******** car and he injected me with drugs!
Dont tell me I'm hallucinating!
So, to get back on track, my parents found out I was ******** up in the head, that I was gay.
They disowned me.
Yup.
Dis owned.
I stayed there for a few weeks, hitting the bar every few nights, coming home smelling of smoke and booze, completely smashed.
They stepped right over my passed-out body and went about their business.
I didn't exist anymore.
[********]
Then one of my best friends text me about someplace to stay.
Man, was I ******** relieved.
Of course, that wasn't the end, no.
That black-haired boy from my past showed up again and my heart went patter-pat-pat for him.
I'm a ******** tool.
He's had my heart forever and he... I dont know.
We shared a sort of elongate moment, starting with him passing out, ending with him spilling his guts about something I'm not allowed to talk about.
I didn't know what to do, and in a drunken stupor, I told him I loved him.
******** stupid, because now I ruined the only thing I had ever worked so hard for in my life.
I ruined my friends.
But the good news... He says he feels the same.
Can I hope for him to settle down?
Yeah, I think I can, at least for a few days...
Right?
This stress is killing me, and hiding it from the rest of my friends is breaking me apart.
o.O
Please dont comment (secretly means do)
I feel slightly retarded for spewing this all out, it just had to get out of my head.
That annoying fifty cents worth of chatter was killing me.
SpringTimeFox Community Member 
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