Empty

I should have left when I first had the chance. She was so angry, so afraid. And I was alone. I always feel alone. Perhaps that is why I love her, or why I think I love her, because she fills in the empty space, and when she fails to do that I get sad. Its a new discovery and an old discovery this all consuming empty space, this void within me that thrives for attention, and begs for affection. I hate it, I hate me, I want to fix this so bad, or I want to hide, dissapear, I want to stop everything and sleep all day, no work, no play, no food, no water, I want to sleep until I wither away. But I know better, I hate that I always know better, I have to keep going keep pushing ahead or it will do far more damage to everyone. I cannot let this self loathing become too powerful, too destructive, or it will destroy me. That is what hatred does to people, it destroys them.

I feel alone.