and i dont like it much. but here i am.

she is still alive. if she is okay or not i do not know, because i have not talked to her. i just know she has been home once or twice.

im getting to the point i'm almost tired about talking about things.

i am tired of people telling me that it is not my fault, that i did all i could, that i can't beat myself to death over it.

i dont believe any of that.

i'm tired of people missing the fact that it's killing me, that i'm hurting because of it.

im tired of waiting until conditions are right before i talk, and then realizing conditions arent right.

and might never be right.

i'm tired of leaving.

you never think of superheros having a crisis of self doubt. self worth. self anything. but maybe they do. maybe green hornet or spider man had a secret place they went to, to just remember that they werent too bad.

hows this for symbollic?

i am doing laundry right now. in the washer, after i moved the clothes out, was one crayon. 12 dark yellow orange it says.

it was broken clean in half.