At the point where nothing matters anymore. Where life and health is nothing but a stain on the side of the road, I do not care about my own well being any longer. My life seems like a long joke with no punch line. Something written by a mediocre writer and tossed away by the publishers of the world. I have been writing my life and I finally wrote something worth while and I erased it from myself. The publisher laughed and threw my life away with the rest of the garbage. It is my curse, my everlasting pain that I have to live with. How long my life actually lasts I don’t know. Suicide does not pass into my mind because I do not believe in it. I do believe in dying of a broken heart though, that death seems more realistic and that it is coming soon. My physical body may not die, but my soul, spirit, and mind will. The things that she helped make me will go away, the love and happiness that filled my heart will vanish. The only love I will feel is one that will never be returned. This will forever be my life. Before I looked forward to the future because of her, now I dread it because she left and is never looking back…


My Final Writing... Good Bye