this dead silence... i don't know what to tell of it.

I hate going to ink bar now. I hate listening to Dave Matthew's, because every word and every note is screaming your goddamn name.

all i have left of you are fragments - the dave matthew's badge with the elongated faces of everyone in the band, the bottle of baileys that you gave me which i have no heart to open, one of the 2 notebooks we took from a stranger when we were out together (the other is with you), the malcolm gladwell books i recommended so strongly and eventually bought for you so you could read them, the letters that I wrote when you were away which I never got to pass to you, the blue toy dolphin (you have the pink one) i bought which is still on a bag that i don't use anymore, the penn and teller bullshit link on my safari that i don't want to click anymore.

and worst of all, your number. i'm so afraid of not hearing a response from you that i don't even dare to dial the number anymore. it just rings and i never get to hear a voice at the other end. i send a message and it's like i sent a message into a black hole. i'm fucking scared. of trying to initiate conversation. of the fact that you never reply.

I'm hurting so much now and I don't know when this hell is going to end.

"trust is like a mirror. you can fix it once it's broken, but you will always be able to see the cracks."

yet another thing i shouldn't have said.

Screw you Dave Matthews. I can't even listen to you properly anymore.

I'm trying to teach myself to be emotionally independent, because I want to stop leading people on, and I can't always take advantage of some poor guy who at that point in time has a fond liking for me.

But would that take the life out of me?

---

We're staring down into the abyss and wondering how this is going to turn out. I'm sorry friend.

Being around tactless people and having a considerably heavy emotional burden around is making me very tactless and insensitive as well.

I know I will regret some of the things I said. But I can't take them back. All I can do is to make sure I don't spew anymore brainless nonsense.

I need to find myself again, and be myself. The happy, optimistic, sensitive me. I don't want to be the grumpy, arrogant, unfeeling shell I am now.

Goodness, the way Anna Nalick describes songwriting is so apt.

2 AM and I'm still awake, writing a song
If I get it all down on paper, it's no longer inside of me,
Threatening the life it belongs to
And I feel like I'm naked in front of the crowd
Cause these words are my diary, screaming out loud
And I know that you'll use them, however you want to

What will I do in the future? Will I enjoy my job? Will any company take me in? Will I start my own business? Will my skills be put to good use, and will I be developed to my fullest potential? Will I have to marry a rich man so he can support me?

I feel like a wasted space.