excerpts from stories i will never write

how can i have the gall to wallow in my feelings at the slightest inconvenience-- destructive, self destructive. i'm ready to hurt something. i'm ready to hurt myself. how can i do this when i am surrounded by the fatherless, the depressed, suicidal,  anxiety-ridden,  addicted,  struggling, falling? gone, now. flash floods of emotion. is this what it's like to be bipolar? i wonder. --3.28.18

"I realized it, today. I always accept that I'm a loser, so that I won't be let down. But by doing that, I automatically lose. Without confidence in myself, I always lose." --3.25.18

"Strange. For someone who forgets everything about himself, you sure do remember an awful lot about me." --3.25.18

and i suppose  this will be my life, now. pushing people away  to keep them safe. ruining friendships because i'm scared of the future possibilities. closing up,  retreating, bottling my emotions so that i cannot be harmed. although-- i am more terrified  of harming another than being harmed. i cannot let anyone in and i cannot allow myself to latch onto anyone. how much different would life be if one facet changed? --3.20.18

summer night in my closet tears streaming down my face he didn't hear i didn't let him i couldn't  he wasn't ready i wonder if i should put all this to rest finally Father, let me know if he can bear it --3.19.18

i can't believe it. that you would be so self-absorbed to think that he wanted you. catching feelings in a couple short weeks. no. look at you. to jump to conclusions like that? what an idiot. friends do that, not lovers.  friends care. friends stay for you. how could you believe that he wanted you? never. you are sheltered. you are alone. you will stay that way, until-- until never. you will stay that way. so shut up and leave me alone.  --3.19.18

tell me why you loved them.  tell me all about her eyes. the one with eyes like burnished bronze, flecked with gold, who made you feel warm inside. tell me about the one with eyes like the deep blue sea--the tropics, green and gorgeous. or the one with eyes of forest-green, the eyes you could lose yourself in. tell me about her laugh, each one of them; different, but lovely in their own ways. tell me about how her hair felt when you ran your fingers through it, or how you always loved the way her long waves bounced when she walked. tell me about how her hair smelled like coconuts, but hers reminded you of apples, while the other's always smelled like fresh-baked cookies. tell me about how they loved you--fierce, soft, young and beautiful. tell me about how her nose would aways touch your skin when you hugged, but you loved the way that another's would breathe you deep before you pulled away. tell me about the late nights you had with each of them. tell me about how she'd ...

   He absentmindedly runs his hand over the mudstained, no longer white truck.  "It's old, but classic."    She smiles. "I like it." "It needs a little work."     "All the best things do." --3.16.18

"I love you." "Please, don't. Don't do that to yourself. It's a mistake you'll wish you never made." --3.15.18