I forgave him, but we hardly ever talk now and I’m still alone. I can feel myself changing; I even stopped writing in my journal for sometime now. I think that I’m becoming afraid of everything I stand for, my handwriting, my image, or I just don’t want to look back one day and read about how cold I have turned. I started to type my journal entrees now and I just staple the printed copies to the blank pages of my journal. Besides my odd practice of doing this, I have realized that during this time of loneliness that I have no one right now that can help me heal my open wounds, but myself. I feel as though I am in another world where no one even acknowledges my existence, oh wait, I already live in that world. I Feel: I am unable to write I think I forgot how I forgot a lot of things Even how to love How can a heart be so cold? I think my heart froze I have no control The feeling: Ice cold Not one burning sensation Not one single light My mind so direct No imagination No outlet I have lost all that I have gained No free will to unfold me No specific reason There’s nothing I can do now It’s out of my control I have no place of my own I have no where to go Not one heart to hold I’m not even outside Yet I get lost in the sky Asking so many questions But they are all unanswered I whisper amongst myself I stare at the blank walls I daze into the streetlights I glare at the night
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