William Lee Holt. I am so sorry. I love you. Five months and this is how i repay you?! I fucked up! I'm SO sorry. I don't want this anymore. I hate knowing that I screwed up your life and shredded your heart. And knowing that you hate my guts only makes it burn worse. This burning in my heart, please make it go away. I don't want to live like this anymore. I don't want to feel the feeling of despare and hate..In my heart, I felt like it was right to end it..But on the outside I feel now that i would die for anything but this. I would slit my own throat if it ment I could live without the memory of your beautiful face cluttering my mind. It's not that I don't want to keep the memories, I just don't want to feel the uncontrolable sadness that ends me crying myself to sleep every night, I sleep in peace till your presence wakes me up and I cry again. I just don't want you in my head. I love you so much that it hurts and if i hadnt of messed it up we would still be happy! In love with each other and not the both of us hating my guts....I have the urge to just see the blood, but it wont help anything except help my mother make the choice to put me in a mental institute. Locked away in a boxed room, cut short finger nails, chopped hair, straight jacket and only one visitor that only cared about me....Joanna.
I don't know what to do right now. I've tried giving up on life, moving on, talking to you, crying my heart out and now ive resorted to blogging. Does this get any worse? Only thing I think about is your face and name. How you always called me by my first name with your last name trailing alone. How we would mess around and talk about getting married soon. Calling before and after I went to school and before you went to work. Webcaming just because we had that extra minute before bed, work, or chores. I love you!
I miss your face, smile, eyes, voice, words, the way you'd remind me how much you loved me...
Most of all, I miss you singing to me <3 I love you with all my heart William Lee Holt...
Please take me back...
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