I am sorry that there is something that is wrong within me. It is a wound that cannot be seen, often not believed, or aired out in order to heal. The blood-letting via tiny cutting on my inner thighs does not seem to be the trick. MY HEAD IS TOO FULL AND MY SOUL IS TOO EMPTY.

I have tried to fill the emptiness with food, hunger, friends, fucks, loves, hates, shoes, medication, shopping, drugs, alcohol, family, houses, pools, planting trees, overworking, underworking, caring, not caring, exercising, not exercising, watching TV, playing excessively on the computer, artwork, completing art, writing a poem or two, journaling, and crying.

No adjective or adverb can accurately describe what I am trying to say--because I do not know myself, and I cannot make people try to see better when it is ME THAT IS OUT OF FOCUS.

I do not know what has caused me to malfunction, and I do not know why my Dad cares so much.

Sim is selling the house, and with this move he has given me notice to sit around and dwell on too many things. I might make this house my tomb. My wounds would remain here forever. This house is my womb. I feel good and safe here. I feel hope here. My cat and I lived here. Now I count down the days until I am forced out.