I'm awake because I'm stressed.  I'm awake because I'm alone.  I'm awake because I'm worried.  I'm awake because all of these things are going on, and I have no one to talk to, no support. 

My father is terribly sick, but it doesn't stop him from manipulating others and using my mother.  In the end, though, I'm the one who always has to pay for it.  He could die, and the only thing he seems to worry about is his next fix, or next lie.

My phone doesn't ring anymore.  There are people who call themselves my friends.  they still hang out and have fun, just without me.  I don't get invited anymore, I just find out what a good time they had afterwards. 

Since people I knew wouldn't talk to me, I turned to the Internet for support.  I have online 'buddies' that used to talk to me.  Now they dodn't even have time to talk to me.  I shouldn't be surprised, most people online are looking at me for sex.  But that doesn't mean it doesn't still hurt.

You wanna know how pitiful I am?  I met this guy, and we went out a couple times.  Sex became involved, and it seemed like that was all he wanted.   But I convinced myself that it was more than that, because that's what he told me.  He told me he cared about me, and I fell in love with him.  He told me he loved me.  But then, nothing.  I didn't hear from him for a month.  I was heartbroken.  I didn't know what I had done wrong, or why he would treat me that way.  Now, all of a sudden, I'm hearing from him again.  He wants to see me, but has no explanation of where he's been, and everytime I ask, he changes the subject.  The small logical part of my brain that I have left knows there's something wrong with this.  But most of my mind just wants someone to care about me.  Most of me needs someone to be there for me, even if it is just sex.  I know that makes me sound desperate, and like I have no sense of self worth.  That's exactly who I am.  So I will let him continue to treat me badly, because I need the attention.  A small amount of love in exchange for months of heartache.  Somehow, I rationalize this to myself, tell myself it's worth it.  Deep inside, I know that my life is falling apart, in all aspects.  There's nothing I can do about it.  I hve accepted that I'm supposed to be hurt, and that the world hates me.  But it doesn't mean I feel any better.  It doesn't mean I don't want to be loved, don't want to have friends, don't want to be happy.  It's just been so long since I've genuinely experienced any of those things, that I'm used to being without them.  I'm used to being numb and sad and emotionally and physically drained.