Behind Closed Doors.

I'm losing it.

I've finally thrown away my deck of cards. Alcohol. Drugs. Perscriptions. Cutting. Burning. Eating. Driving. Spending. Sleeping.

I'm staring in the mirror and I can see the itch in my eyes to find a quick fix. My mind sounds like a broken washing machine, trying to think of a clear healthy way to take the pain that I'm in and process it. Why the pain revolves so easily around this certain person in my life - perhaps because every time we are good, I feel like he replaces me. Over and over again, I am replaceable, I will never be a permanent fixture, I will never be that good. I try to find someone to fill the hole inside me.

A companion. A whore. A 420 friend. A writing buddy. Anyone from Teenchat.com.

I can feel my desperateness seep from myself, from my need to find someone, something, anything. I have no follow-through. I find and I erase. I have standards, I will not lower them or turn my back on my religion, my beliefs. I am worthy of someone better than this, than all of this. Need to be better, need to be someone.

He chose him over me again. Actions scream so much louder than words. They echo, they resonate your devious mindset. You don't care, I am nothing to you, I am a pawn in your game of chess, merely a dedicated soldier willing to lay down my life for you, a life you will use unthinkingly to keep your reign.

Where is my deck of cards? Why did I throw them away? The need to stable myself is too strong to ignore. . . Square One again. Desperate, willing to do anything to numb, ease, or pretend the pain isn't a slow-working-acid that I have poured into a bath and am partaking of first hand.

UGH. I need to find a way to climb out of this vicous cycle. But how?