Im in the typing mood(for once in my life).So,im just going to type what i feel.This may get messy,so stand back.Here goes nothing..

My legs are bare and my stomach hurts;proof that i miss you.I cant sleep anymore because my pillow still carries your scent,your style,your smile.I dont have that spunk i had about me anymore.Now im just a vessel,with nothing but sob storries and pity parties to keep me from running back.Eyeliner doesnt cover up regret,like i thought it would.The way it runs and smears just makes it more noticable.I guess in some twisted way,i'd like to thank you.For not fucking caring if I drove my car off a bridge or if i just plain jumped off of one.You made me see who my real friends were.And by real,i dont mean true and nice,i mean not fake;what you've been all along.It turns out you werent kidding when you said i deserve alot better.

You're hysterically poetic.
And im poetically hysterical.

Until i feel this way again,
Whitney