I've had enough. I've let my emotions take the best of me for too damn long. I took a few moments to look back at my life and I realized that I have accomplished absolutly nothing. Not one single damn thing, and I'd be suprised if I ever manage to change that. Everything seems to be a waste of time. Everyone seems to be a waste of trust. I'm sick of always picking myself back up again just so someone else can have a clear shot of beating me back down again. The scars are growing, the wounds reopening, time is spinning me around and stealing my breath. I just keep dieing, but never quite enough. The faces stare at me and I let them peirce my soul for a moment, hoping for some kind of release, only to watch them turn with shrinking concern. The blades sinking into my back only multiply with every soul I attempt to connect to leaving me to question why I even bother in the first place. Yes, my life is young, and only just begun, which turns my attention to the long road ahead. Every step drowns me deeper into it's thick embrace, and I wonder where my comfort must be. My faith is fading, my hope is thinning, my dreams are dieing. Reaching for a hand only to feel it's cold grip around my neck squeezing all that I am out of my mouth and onto the floor. Turning me from the inside out. There are so many damn human desires I have succumed to more often than desired. There are so many things inside me I could do with out, so many things that could be let go. So many feelings that only slice deeper within drowning me in pain and regret. By the next time I write in this, I hope to be as cold as ice.