This is so frustrating.

asdghj

Self control. I'm not good at it.

Those Eyes, Those Eyes by devonkaboom| Lulu Poetry

Those Eyes, Those Eyes by devonkaboom| Lulu Poetry

I'm fine. Perfectly, wonderfully, simply fine.

Everything is good. I'm happy, it's spring time,

I have a bike, beautiful friends, a nice guy to talk to,

my daddy is home for leave, a career idea, dreams,

aspirations and a lot of hope.

Everything is so perfect.

I have never felt so low.
I honestly just want to disappear right now.
I just want to stop feeling this.
so alone. fuck.

I don't know what I'm doing, or why. I don't know why I feel just fine, and then I want to break down and cry because I'm shameful and disgraceful and sad. I don't know how I feel now. I don't know what to do, but I am angry now. I feel so much anger all the time. I try and try and try to stop and I just get more angry because I can't stop it.

Nobody died, I did not die. I am Devon, I am here, and I am as I always have been; stubborn, clingy, overly thoughtful, worried, and full of personality flaws that you loved and hated about me.

You're right, I will never change, I will stay this way as I am. I don't think you should finish the box. You practically hate me by now, and I don't want something given to me strictly on the principal that it's "right." I don't want a gift that has no meaning or feeling or love behind it. The letter made the box that much more special to me, and I had yet to even read it. The letter meant that there was something there, and the box was more then a meer holiday gift. I don't feel it now, and you don't feel it now because I've beaten and brusied you and hurt you like I never wish I would have. If you cannot give me the letter because the me that you loved is dead, do not give me the box. It would be nothing morethen a painful reminder of the scorn I know you feel for me.