Don't Read This -Thiefshipping

  Did you know that suicide hotlines aren’t open at two in the morning? Did you also know the online chat rooms for them are closed as well? What does one do when those are ruled out of question and no one is online? Simple. One resorts to drinking.
  Funny really. How alcohol is considered such a downer but all I feel is better. I feel less likely to cut myself open. I feel lighter. Like I’m going to be okay if I just keep sucking down more of it. So I do. It’s only 80 proof. I have something more potent but I don’t want to open it just yet. Not when I’m by myself anyway.
  So this is how I’ve spent my last few nights. Drinking in the dark. Staring at my computer hoping that someone will get online. That someone might be able to stop me. No one does. I don’t blame them. They are all sleeping or out doing something productive with their lives.
  I miss him. I miss him so fucking much. It’s like he’s died but I know he hasn’t. So I just keep sipping on my rum bottle. The taste is foul and disgusting but I crave more.
  I hope he is having fun doing whatever it is he’s up to. I hope he doesn’t even remember my name. That I’m far from his mind. From anyone’s mind. After all, I am a monster.
  Why is it that I only feel this way at night when absolutely no one is around? I have some ideas but none of them make any sense. Why would I want to feel like shit? I want to feel worthwhile and see the future as promising, not some bleak hell hole that I’m drowning in.
  The rum burns. I like it. I like feeling something.
  I bet you didn’t know that I threw up that day you left. That I cried so hard that I fell to my knees and vomited everywhere. It was revolting. Degrading even. But I could not help it. I felt so stupid. So alone and like my best friend just walked out on me. The last time I did that was when my partner at the time tried to kill themself. I felt so responsible and guilty. I hated myself so much for not being able to stop them.
  So here I am, missing you. I miss being hugged. Feeling like someone actually loved me. Like someone finally wanted me around and cared enough to pretend to love me. The bed is so fucking empty…
  I’m happy you found someone with the same interests as you. I truly am. Really. That still doesn’t stop me from missing you. From wanting you back. Fuck- I’d let you strangle my sorry ass if it meant I could pretend that you cared enough to do so. I know it sounds fucked up, I know it is fucked up, but I can’t stop myself from thinking it.
  Please don’t ever read this. If you do, don’t comment. Just let me pine in my sorry little corner and reminisce on the ways things used to be.
  Ra, I am so pathetic… I hate myself for crying over you. We both thought this was for the best- and here I am bawling my eyes out.
  Woah, the booze just kicked in hard. It’s difficult to see straight. Heh, straight… How funny.
  Bakura, please don’t read this. Don’t comment. Just ignore this. Let me hate myself as is. Just enjoy your time with him. Remember to tell him that he’s special and you love him. Let him feel special. Let him know he’s your one and only. Please be happy. Please, please, please be happy…
  I think I’m going to stop while I’m ahead and end this here. Goodnight world. Sleep well and pretend this never existed. Forget I ever said any of this… Just forget it all.