I think I heard you whispering you again, but it was my voice again and you weren�t there and I wasn�t there. I had never been there. I cried after my shower today. Not different for you, different for me. I had always cried in the shower, the stifling water drowning me. They wouldn�t hear me break down; they always wanted to hear me break down. I screamed this morning in a shirt in my closet. A moan of exasperation, of a sick day from a life I just couldn�t take, from your life I couldn�t take. I know the day is coming when I know I just can�t take anymore (maybe take it anymore). I know it�s coming. She knows it�s coming to. She can see it when I can�t look at her, when the sleep feeds me instead of living. They are making me die. They are forcing me to live this life, to die in this life in this youth that I will never have again. And it is painful everyday, every minute, and every second. I drive to your house all of your homes and I can see your porch light on but it isn�t on for me anymore is it?

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