jamiereid

i walked up the garden path to your door, but before i could knock i was hit with the realisation that maybe i didn't belong. i walked down the garden path back to my car, just wanting to get home and sit in the dark, thinking about what it was that went wrong. though you may be gone that doesn't mean that i'm just going to lay down and die i'm going to stand on my own two feet and view the world for myself i walked up the foot path to the table in the corner i realised that you wouldn't be coming like you had so many times before. i ordered the same thing, the sky looked the same, and the trees but why is everything so

"Why do you want to talk now?" she asked me.  Her voice wasn't filled with anger, or hesitation.  She was just asking a question. The truth was, I didn't know the answer.  In fact, I honestly had very little idea as to why I called her.  I suppose it was the feeling I'd been having the last few days; I'd been unable to define exactly what that feeling was, but I knew it was linked to her somehow.  It wasn't love, or was it.  It was certainly similar to loneliness, and the feeling of longing that always accompanies that.  What was so curious about this feeling was the hint of fear that had wedged it's way into my chest.  I wanted to know how

you call me up just to tell me something you can't even remember what it was what am i suppose to think? i guess if it only happened maybe once every now and then but everyday is kinda pushing it don't you think? i think it's kinda funny how you can't understand it was years ago when i said i loved you years ago when we were together years ago but you still love me there was a time don't get me wrong when i thought you could be the one but i think i could need something more then you were ever willing to give and i think it's funny how you can't understand it was years ago when my smile would light your day years ag

emotionless would be a lie, but it's the front he wears, can't you see, the need in him, the need for something more. he longs to touch what's no longer his, screaming no longer gives it's peace, and all he wants to do is lay, lay down and cry. but the tears won't flow, too many times before, has this happened, to the one, the one who lays here now. he's asked how he feels, and in relation to what, no one knows, the pain that grips, that grips his very soul. no one ever did anything for him, their own benefit, was all they sought, and what reward was given, is his crying figure, huddled.

Afraid that if i don't write it down, i will forget afraid that if i write it down, it is somehow more true then before. afraid that it will all disappear, and i will be left alone. afraid that my memory will weaken, and i will forget them all. afraid that i'll never see them again. afraid that a part of me will die. afraid i never made an impact. afraid of the things i never said. afraid of the love that never flew, and the laughs never freed. afraid that none of it mattered. afraid it's all over.

and from the high of life he falls into his father's angry arms open the window let the fresh air in, feel the cold against your skin, and know it's over. walking down the hall of truth, the stairs of depression lead you... it's such a waste of life you know, but you can't escape the path already laid for you, by the choices he made for you

i fall asleep thinking of you, and when i wake you're always on my mind. i spend the whole damn day just saying your name. and i drive, trying to keep my mind on the road, but the truth is, i think i love you.

Stuck in the middle, the kids always are when the fighting never stops you run and hide in your safe place so far away, so far away that is no way to live, with the fear she has lived with this for so long. and it is finally starting to get to her. shouldn't have to choose, between the ones you love so much but they love you too, you have to keep them happy. launching into denial and blaming yourself it's easier to say it's all your fault then know the truth that no one is perfect not even your dad. somethings in life are hard, but watching someone you love in so much pain, knowing there is nothing you can do to help is the

I think that you need to talk to someone though, now more then ever. i needed to talk about it, because its getting to much, and i can't handle it don;t become me. an introvert, unable to share feelings i've always been like that thats why its so hard before you met me, i was in a really bad way (here comes my soul to you) and i couldn't handle life anymore school. home. friends. everything. i felt there was nothing in life left that would make me happy i was litterlly burned out and i am still recovering from that it is hard at times. and noone can really understand that, no matter how much they say they do. there are times i j

as i look at the photo, i can bearly recall, that conversation we had, walking down the hall. but you've gone, moved on. to a better place, one without pain. no suffering. my ode to you my old friend, are the words on this paper. i often thought of ringing you, to catch up, to see you.  but the circumstances forced us apart.  It is a shame really, that i didn't make the time. i felt empty, when i read the words, she's dead. i feel empty now as i sit and write this, and try to recall your face, but i can't, and it hurts. it is strange really, how i can't recall, the sound of your voice, or the look of your face. seems so long