Journal

Another day

I'm lucky to know so many fantastic people. They're probably the only thing that keeps me from screaming and crying and hurting everywhere. Why is everything so complicated and why does time have to pass so quickly? Would it be so bad to just slow down for awhile? You have no place for me and I hate it. I wish I could be better and I wish I could help. I want to be able to help so badly it hurts and rips me to shreds, but I don't know how and it's so frustrating. I'm not someone you can love, but I want to be. But I don't know how, I don't know how to do anything, and I'm never going to get anywhere. If I can't love, and I can't be loved, what is there? What am I supposed to do?