It’s awfully lonely when you dial someone’s number, expecting to hear their voice and that alone is enough to comfort you and the only thing you can hear are empty dial tones.
Why can’t I write about happy things, about happy times, about the things that makes me smile. Have I turned to someone who needs pain to function? I keep on thinking many many ways of making myself unhappy, to create more problems, but never the solution.
That lead to the realization that I'm very, very messed up for no good reason. But there is nothing in the world that would make me admit it, ever. Someone, please hear my plea, guide me through this, anyone. I beg you, please.
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