Another day goes by and although I shouldn’t, I think of my mother. I think about how much I miss her and how much I need her everyday. I feel empty and alone inside, a feeling that I have had for a long long time and no matter who comes in my life or who tells me that it will be ok I can’t fill up. I think about my life and wonder what the hell I did to deserve this, to deserve feeling this way and being this way. Food seems to be my only comfort. I don’t drink alcohol much anymore but that used to help along with the many other things I tried a ong the way. I had been clean for about two years I relapsed in Texas but moving to South Florida I cleaned up again. Cocaine is not an adictionof mine just something I use when the pain gets too bad, when the lonely gets too lonely. I’m almost at that point again, but I refuse to let myself get there. The difference this time is that I talk about it. Before I held all that emptiness inside and opened up to no one. I trusted no one. Everyone just saw this dumb happy fat girl. I’m changing, evolving slowly into a new person, someone who knows that being strong is good but being hard can break you. Someone who knows that even though all she ever wanted in life was a family, she may never have that. I dedicated my life to working my ass off and for what. . . everytime I had enough to get up off my knees and start walking again, someone came along and needed me. There I was again, down-and-out with no one to help me pick up the pieces. So, I’ve isolated myself from the people I care for the most and I’m searching for ways to make me better. Looking for a new horizon next to the man who has helped build me up and the man who never left my side even when he should have run in the other direction. He didn’t know, he had no idea what was locked inside me, he had no clue what was about to come crashing down in his lap. Because on the surface there was a spunky little 19 year old, seemingly full of life and ready for anything. The man who still tries not only to be my friend and lover but has to step in and play dad once in a while when I’m taking the wrong direction again. I feel badly for him. I feel like I don’t deserve him, like he doesn’t deserve to have to deal with this emotional mess. But he does, I’ve asked him why and there is never an answer. Sometimes I wonder how tired he is, because God and I both know he is tired. Hell, I’m tired! I’m just glad he doesn’t have to live with the person I am deep down who I no longer let out EVER. The person no one who currently knows me has had the dis-pleasure of meeting. Only a few have met that monster and they aren’t around to tell the story. I feel bad that I burned them out of my life, a bridge that can NEVER NEVER be rebuilt. I have no one to blame, no one to point the finger at. Not my mother, or my father, not even God. . . I just live with it. I deal with it. Those memories will never leave me, they are always there, in the middle of the night when I’m in my deepest sleep, they are there. I’m just glad they will never come back to life, those memories. Memories the will remain forever. . .