There are no answers, just more questions.
Things like that, are the things that mean the most.
If you're ever near Minneapolis, call. I got you.
Posted via LiveJournal.app.
Somebody.
Do something to help me win her back.
I don't care if she's moved on and things have changed.
I need one chance.
Someone help.
Posted via LiveJournal.app.
I really was trying.
Harder than before.
Harder than ever.
I really gave it my all.
They say I'm depressed; I'm not. I'm just broken because when the ground of my schema disappeared I didn't accomodate. I fucking tried, but during, recall of my memories of my pase experiences I non-existant. How can we be friends if I don't remember how to treat you, because the only time you've seen me is at a superficial house party that you don't even fucking remember? Upon returning to where I was raised, I don't get a, "hello.". My birthday, a fucking facebook post, maybe on a big year like eighteen, a text message. You don't know me because you don't care. I talked for years and all you heard was the echo of your own voice bouncing off of ear drums? The world around you changes! The world around me changes! Thus, we change, but what's supposed to keep us steady is the laughter and comfort of friends, family. All I have is regret. Regret for wasting time on people like you, who don't even aknowledge me when I'm at my worst? I gave you my friendship, my house to party, my money, my car, my trust, and the life I should have had. Returned with regret.
I gave you store credit once, your time expired.
Everything was for nothing.
Nothing leaves me empty.
That's not fucking depression; that's your deceptions.
I don't know who to turn to.
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