I'm in a slump, a slur, a blur. I can't think straight here. Sitting in this plastic, maroon colored chair I'm just a mess. My ear is burning, burning and stinging. It hurts.
I miss her and I wish she were here. I wish she had never moved. I wish things were easier. I want my old life back sometimes. I want to be a loner, and not have to deal with drama and distractions. I, I, I! That's all I ever talk about is me, me, me... what about them, them, them?
What about the suicidal, the hurt, the poor, the people in the dirt? A friend to talk to is what they need.
When I'm ready to jump off the edge of the Empire State building, that's when I'll let me get to me. I'll let myself into my own thoughts and into my weaknesses.
I need to be strong. I have to be.
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