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I don't really understand who reads these (just throwing that out there)

I've been busy and it's gonna get even worse.

I dunno, sometimes I wonder if I'm suffocating. I waited a day to see if you would text me or message me and sure enough, you were online and chatted with me. I can't sand the humiliation I've felt with you. I feel humiliated. I hope you understand my feelings one day. I can't tell you now but I am shamed by you.

and I hate it so much more that I have a thousand questions, or even more

I want to know so much about you that it fills me lungs,
but when you talk to me,
it seems all you want is for the time to be.
And it kills me.
How do you not choke on the questions,
and store away my answers?
How do you not press on for deeper eval.,
when I hide away my pain?
I tested and it doesn't seem like you'll leave...
so then why does it feel like it's only me?

I really do hate it. I want to run away from you but in my mind you always clutch me tight and whisper that you love me. I can't turn you against me and... quite frankly, it hurts. I'm not used to it. It hurts. Love hurts.

And I can't really say that it's love... I've only known you for so long and I haven't spent more than a day with you. Even that wasn't just us alone. But still, I want to say it. I want to whisper it to myself, that I can be in love.

I've tried to make it easier, passing the days. I'm cleaning out my room. You wouldn't believe how ridiculous my mother is. She saves EVERYTHING because she thinks we'll want it when we have kids. It's kind of freakish. I know I'm a pack-rat but I don't think I'm this bad. She wants to save my old piggy-bank that is ratty and childish (one I would never give my kid) cause she thinks it's "cute." She wants to save the roller blades downstairs for if she has grandchildren over.... like they would fit the damn blades or not be able to buy the newest model. Mother... you are strange.

And I've been trying to get out. Trying to be busy... cause it keeps my mind from battling itself. You see... the closer I get to you, the more I want to live. And the more I want to live by your side, the harder it is to be apart. The more the side of me that thinks it's "okay" to want to die or "it's okay to have depression all your life" voices out and calls to me.

But it's not alright.

I want to be able to see a future, beyond two weeks from now. I want to be out of debt from my parents and brother and friends. I want to claim my own life belongs to me. Because it should. And living a life that doesn't belong to you, is the worst feeling I know. I can't imagine anything worse. If I die, they are at fault. If I die, they pay for it. If I die, they have waited all that time and effort and love. And I don't want a life of debt. I don't want to be "their child." I want to be ME. Free...

And maybe that's why I can't lie in your arms in the morning or give myself to you. Maybe that's why I won't get a tattoo. And I can't redecorate this room that way I can picture it. Or draw a comic or buy clothes. Because I'm still just a doll, a child... that was made for you.