GUESS WHAT + in the beginning i saw what erbody else sees, innocence and spark, the dawn, like a newborn, softness, real compassion. I wanted to be what she wanted me to be. I wanted her to want me. Resentful and painful now, all of it. I still see the innocence, and i see the not so innocent, and i still Love it, by my actions. It is the shame i am fighting. Her shame and mine. I do not regret this anger, only that i have regretted so much in the past, felt ashamed of so much, judged, been judged, and now am reeping a shallow harvest, one without real roots, cept those that were there before. She is not okay, though she is still herself. She is strong enough to beat her body down forever it seems, i know, but there will be a moment when she cannot keep going anymore, just like mark. I know time will catch all of us off guard eventually. I really do wish her happiness, even with her new love. I am proud for sticking to her guns through all my shit, through the glass breaking and the crying, but nothing can change what is in my heart, broken as it may be. I will go on crying if need be, and if i thought killing entire forests or raking the sea with cyanide would make her see the parts of me that loved her, the parts i loved she maybe wouldnt hide so much behind the drugs or the clothes or the t&a or the newest place/people/thing that she is running to, and maybe she would grow those parts some more like she did when we were good together, and maybe she wouldnt throw them out with the stubborn fool that accidentally tricked her into being good to herself, then told her she wasnt worth it, then made her hang on anyway. I am sorry, not for the windows, or the fights, or the tears, but for ever holding back anything that u asked me for. Your love deserves better than that. You know it now, but i hate that im the one that did it, and i hate that  all the good we did fer each other never meant a hill a beans next to our own lust, devices, fear. We were together once, and now we're not, and i see red when i look left of my front door or pass a black montero on the road, and there aint no one around cause all i talk about is my pain all the time and though i made my bed, i am definitely not the one sleeping in it.