Why can't I feel anything for anyone other than you? __________________________________________________ I hate her. She wonders why with her sleepy eyes. Asking questions that hang in the air. But she doesn't know nor does she care. The silence is eating me alive. I like to draw//In my bra I feel like I'm slipping away again, somewhere deep below the carpet. I don't want to claw anymore, I don't feel like fighting. It seems like all I ever do is Sleep and Write. I sleep from the moment I get home until my screaming stomach makes me eat. And I write almost every second of everyday. I have time for nothing else. Just me, my blanket, a pen, and paper. But nothing I've written in the past week or so has been any good. All my inspiration has been drained from me. I've been using alot of it up with drawing. Hmm...I guess I draw alot too. But that uses up alot of time. Not that it bothers me. Not at all. I like being reclusive. But I do miss some people. Certain people who used to talk to me like a normal human being. People who understood or at least pretended to. Now I feel like such a burden to them. They don't need my problems; they have their own. I spend so much time in my room. Too much, I fear. Perhaps I will lose my social skills and have to be placed in a remedial class. Now there's a thought... Love is such a foriegn concept to me. I may never understand it and I may never want to. All I know is, I'm not ready. And I don't want to be. Accept it and deflect it. You can't hear it anyway. You choose to believe you can change me and I choose to keep my mouth shut.