As I sit here in this chair, wishing for anything

Why am I always angry with You at night? What gives? I'm freaking out over here because I can't control my spending. Ever. This is why no one should give me access to anything ever. I will use it and abuse and go buck wild crazy. I'm PISSED that I can't get a grip on my spending because it means that I'll never get a grip on anything else. GOD, I'm so useless!

WHAT AM I SUPPOSED TO BE DOING?! You've taken writing from me, You haven't called me to anything even though everyone else and their mother here has heard You. What about me?! Aren't I good for something?! ...Please? I'll serve soup in a kitchen all my life if You want me to.

Just call me. Call me and don't take it back. Stop doing that, please. Stop letting my imagination run frantic if none of it matters.

I don't want Your heart either. I hate sobbing over anything. And when You sob... I can't breathe. My throat closes up and I want to vomit. I want to do something but You only show me the problem, never the solution.

I will never forget that Senior Trip. Ever. I will never forget crying against the wall when she was sobbing on the floor, broken by her abortion and her confusing relationship. I will never forget when he was drunk out of his mind, but he was sobbing too because he was never the friend he wanted to be. I will never forget how no one else felt it. Instead they all gossiped. "I guess it's true", "Sounds like it is. I mean why else would he..."

I will never forget how angry I was in that moment. How much I wanted to scream at all of them. "You know nothing! Shut up shut up shut up!"

I'll never forget how I knew nothing too. How I let her beat the crap out of her best friend and I just stood there and watched, assuming she deserved it. How immature and stupid and utterly sickening I am.

I have forgotten his callousness. I hope I will not speak to him again and it will all flood back into me. Maybe I should forget him too. Go our own ways. We were never best friends. Just friends. Hardly acquaintances. Sharing interests but never any depth.

I stiffen at his presence. I purposely avoid eye contact. I cannot re-filter him.

I pretend that I am fine because I have no possible way to say all of this to anyone. But I am honest. Or trying to be. Such a conditional word. To be truly honest, would I not have to explain everything to them? From the earliest days I can remember, to my broken relationships, to my gluttony, to my lust, to my thoughts of suicide, to my regrets, to my hatred, to my apathy, to my selfishness, and all that is in between.

And who has time for that much stuff? Not even I do.