Coasting by on fumes for so many years. Always almost, sometimes maybe, but never enough. I infect the people I love but I can't help loving them. I infect them and they turn away indifferent to me, like stepping on an injured man in the mud. There are so many lies in this world, so many games, why is truth detested so much? There's nothing honest about human interaction on these levels, there's nothing personal about relationships, there's no enviable future for we who feel too deeply. She doesn't love me like I love her. They never do. I wouldn't allow them to if they did. Pre-emptive disappointment. I can't allow myself to be hurt more than I do right now, knowing she'll never smile at the thought of me, that I'll never get to hold her while she cries. How can love infect so deep into me. It hurts so badly to know that I'll never be enough for anyone to love like I've loved others. I came here four years ago intending to drown myself in the frozen Mississipi. I used to cross the footbridge every night and stare down into the dark crust. I couldn't FEEL enough to do anything else. There was no self discussion, just blankness, emptiness. I helped myself instead, for the first time ever, asking for help, not from any 'loved' ones, there were no more of those, but from white coats, the people I hated, the people I still hate. They gave me medicine to trick me into thinking it was possible to be happy. I got fat. I got stupider. I lost my passion, (perhaps the only thing about me that was valuable). I was able to go through the motions again and again and again without questioning the pointlessness. Over two years like that, like this, a severed soul and muddy brain. They trick you into being happy by taking away the clarity that exists when you see out of time. I don't know what to do now. I'm almost bone dry again. Why stay on life support?