Dear Diary,
I'm home. I never thought that I would be able to feel so much sadness from simply being home...
This doesn't feel like my room any more...
This doesn't feel like my basement any more...
I don't feel right when is it on the couch and watch TV, or when I cook any thing in the kitchen...
The bathroom feels smaller.. The hallway feels longer... The stairs are steeper...
And the stoop outside makes me feel like I might start crying again...
I walked past my shed today, and I remembered hiding in it... Sitting... Struggling to open a utility knife...
Giving up and crying.. Lying to hurt you...
I didn't really do it you know... I couldn't open it... To physically pry it apart would have been too hard for me... And even if I could, I couldn't bring myself to do it..
I sat in the dark and cried silently instead...
Life is cruel... Love breaks people... Pain makes people...
Thinking back, I shouldn't have lied to him... And I shouldn't have hurt him...
Judge me how you see fit, god or whoever/whatever higher up being you are... I made a choice... I will pay the price... And if he chooses to not talk to me again, then so be it...