I’m walking alone in my own private hell
and what a luxury it is to have.
Each morning I get to dread the day,
and look forward to walking around sad and angry.
Everything I hear goes in one ear and out the other,
because I can’t concentrate on anything for long.
All the things I took pleasure in are no
longer pleasurable, and I look forward to nothing.
I have fun everyday, battling the tears I want
to cry, and trying to forget my feelings.
Just for amusement and a change of routine,
I’ll try to cry when I want, but it never
works and ends in disappointment.
It’s no surprise that I love my life, is it?

3/13/98