Well my question was answered by a cold conversation and heart wrenching music. My life seems more clear now. Sometimes I feel like a fake, as if I am not really who I am. Or maybe people dont see me for who I actually am. Or even perhaps I am trying to be someone I am not. Which one of me is the real one. Is it the happy one, or the sad one. Through the day I can keep a smile painted on my face, I can play along and please the crowd. When my dark room finally meets my night and my eyes recount sullen images in the silent dark. No tears run, just pain, not a physical pain but an egging within me like a drop of blood at a time slowely escapes my heart seeping through a pin hole. I belive the happy me is the real one. The hurt only approches when i want it, when i want to feel pain, I want to feel the guilt of hurting those around me. I hurt them, they hate me, they all seem to drift away from me. None of the want to be around me anymore, they put forth the effort to be with me, but in their eyes they dredge my company like a bird frantically throwing the ugly song in the air. They dont want me anymore. I am not what they want for a friend anymore. Perhaps that is why I hurt, I feel guilty because I know it is my fault. I know I was the one that hurt them, that pushed them away through my selfish choice. So it all pricks my mind and each prick seems to hurt worse those needles press into me like a blade sliding accross skin. That could be why I want to go. I dont want them to have to worry about me any longer. They dont have to worry about my godlessness any longer. They dont have to worry about my fake smiles any longer. They dont have to worry about my speachless looks that tell a story of self-loathing. I watch the time go by every night, each minute passes and it seems as an eternity but looking back it was not even a moment. And each night these minutes grow longer and my eyes close less and less. My dreams frighten me. I dream that I have killed, if I killed I would die. If I was responsible for a death. I would die. If anyone tried to stop me from dieing then they would want me to suffer, because living through the pain of guilt, the image of this persons cold lifless face, and the despair of knowing what I had done. This person who forced me to live would be putting me through hell itself. If I choose to die it is for good reason, I will not die to hurt, but to save from hurting. Do not try to stop me from making the choice if the time comes because you will be the one responsible for my torture and Hell. The happy me is here still, if you want to meet that me then you will have to know me. My words only come onto paper when I have something to say. When I am happy I do not have something to say, something to complain about, I guess I could write what I am grateful for, but I suppose I am to busy living what I am grateful for to get on the computer and write some silly blog about it. Soon I suppose the sad me will all but fade away, love is comeing my way and I am anxious to see her again. When life greets death Let death greet life And let the sun shine on your face because as much as I want to belive the void is not real there is heaven waiting for all of us.