Not a Poem

i nearly died today and i realize how alone i really am. not in just life. but all around. i sit here writing this with a headache, in tears, suffering. i came out of the hospital and they told me nothing was wrong. just banged around. but as i look back at it if i fallen a little bit harder, if i was going a little bit faster. im dead. not physically but mentally. in the back of my head i remember ryan telling me that the least he could do for me was to pretend for me so i dont feel so alone. he is dead inside as well. i see that now. he pretends to love me. he holds me and kisses me. all because he cares. cares enough to see that i put so much effort into a relationship hes showing me that courtesy. i saw all the days we were together. i saw just a spark of the man he used to be. a man happy. full of life. i saw te good times we had together. i thought my life was to end today. and in a way it did. for now i see with only the left eye but the way i see life is that it doesnt matter how we live it. we all live to see death. so what does it matter if we see death in our own way in our own time? i know now that i am meant to be alone. to pen the hardships on paper that others will never see. i know that the best i can do is a relationship based on pretending. hopes. it hurts to say that but it is true. i truly believe that. if it wasnt true i would have found someone who wouldnt have given up on me already. someone to care for me. to love me. i havent even found one. i know that i am not meant for anything great then a pad and pencil,  a monitor and keys. that i am not suppose to be anything but the words behind the writers last words. i am not suppose to be bought and sold and shared. that if other people not me. its crazy you might think that someone is able to function this way but i am finding out that this might not be the best way to deal with things but this is one way to go that i find that is right for me. it might not be right for other people but it is right for me. i find that i am growing into this mind set and finding out that i might even dare i say enjoy the emptiness inside. i even hope that i remain this way. in limbo in a state where i function fully but never feel. the cloak that is now worn feels old. comfortable. as though it was made for me. meant for me. as though this was the end product of everything that ive been through. that this is what i am suppose to be like to be the best i can be. that this is the best i can be. the shell. the empty soul that smiles and laughs the fakes. so that you might experiance the truer happier times. this is the end product of everything that has happened in my life. so that i can write with passion and emotion. to continue to write but not feel the emotions being penned.