remember, four years ago, when I banked on your ears to get me through each day? I think I need you again. sorry that I’m twenty-one and supposed to be gone, but I guess I’m dumber now, worse off than at seventeen. you’re the only one who knows what I’ve done to myself, and you’re the only one I’ll tell that I want to do it again. everyone else I’ve trusted is just not here, and I won’t interrupt their busy lives to tell them of my weakness, of my imminent failure. but I’ll talk to you because you’ve always been here. and I’ll talk to you because I don’t know why I do this. my attempts are restrained now, due to my circumstances, but I know I am just a turned head away from a return to emptiness. and I don’t even know what it proves.