I cried and I cried and I cried. I cried the kind of crying that won�t come out of your throat, and the kind that makes you bite your blanket, and the kind that just rolls out without your permission. I just kept crying, and it didn�t make me feel any less hollow inside. I cried because I felt cold and hollow and scared. I cried because I can�t open my eyes because of what I see on the periphery, because I can�t close my eyes because of the pictures on my brain, and because I don�t even want home.

I cried because I�m cold inside, because I�m hurt, because I�m lost and I�m lonely. I cried because I�m so angry, and I cried because I hate myself for wanting to move on. I cried because I�m not perfect and no one else is perfect and life isn�t perfect and I can�t make it that way. I cried because I�ve been stopping the hurt since that first Sunday and it doesn�t want to be stopped anymore. I cried because at midnight it was the seventeenth and I never want it to be the seventeenth again. I cried, and cried, and cried until there were more tears, and then I cried again when there were. I cried because I lost three best friends, I cried because I know he�s hurting, and I cried because I can�t scream. I cried because I can�t get it out of me, and I cried because I�m not ready to move on but there�s no one to stay back here with me and I�m scared and cold and lonely. I cried because people die, and there�s war and world hunger, and hurt and pain and suffering. I cried because I miss so many people and so many things and I can�t even be the victim.

I just sat there, limp. I fell asleep sitting up to a TV movie, and when I woke up I was crying and my neck hurt. I cried because I hate it so much, and I cried because there�s no looking back, but most of all I cried because there�s no one around I know how to ask for a real hug from. I cried because of physical pain. I just cried.

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