In 2010 I finally obtained something I am terrified to lose. Love for a love-virgin is like an addiction. I broke, I snapped. I can't control myself when it feels like the very bane of misery is being placed on my shoulders. I can't handle a day. I can't handle a day without being loved. The very thought of sitting on a bed without the company of another is the bane of my misery. I died last night. A dead body cannot smile or think or talk. He was talking to a dead body. It started with nothing. I can't explain in any other way than if I were to say that the very energy of the world became sucked out of me and in it's place the most infinite and soul-crushing despair filed my head, my heart and my thoughts. I thought about playing in traffic. Next time I may not be so lucky. And his face. His beautiful, helpless face. I cried harder when I knew he could do nothing. I wanted to die but I wanted him to understand too. It is not too hard to understand that the misery of existance can be expelled in one short bang. I thought he could help me but I discovered there and then that I am beyond help. If he can't help me then nobody else would be justified in trying. I rely on him too much, but I don't trust the reliance of myself. Only one thing I have learned about the despair and that is that it is worsened by alcohol. It's as though it feeds off the alcohol and my inability to think rationally.

I have become a spontaneous liar. I have thought about it and there is no reason for it. I am not covering any dangerous truth. I just prefer to say what I think people would be more apt to hearing. Besides, I am too busy to have anything else handed on my plate. I am trying so hard not to be miserable at Christmas. Trying so hard to find the energy to function. Give me a meaning. Give me a meaning.