I always thought you were the one to start fighting and screaming when the monster jump out from under the bed with magots spewing from its eye. You'd be the one getting the knife and poking at its heart hoping it went away eventually. Never wanting anything else but love filling the room with murderous anticipation. Getting a bite to eat from the old left over pizza sitting in the corner of the room. Making yourself sick, and wanting to take all the pills that are left in the cupboard. Drinking the glass of wine still sitting on the counter from last years business even, wishing you had some one! Some one to care for you! even the slightest bit. but you know if they did they'd always worry youd kill youself slowly. Taking a blade and cutting your throat slowly only to realise you wont die from it. Instead you deside to start cuttin you wrists, blood everywhere. All this because no one loves you! No one cares enought to help. You know that if anyone was arround this time they'd ask you if they could help then laugh as you slipped away. Feeling your life slowly drift away. Now your dead, burring 6 feet in the ground, you smell and your flesh is melting away. Your eyes fell to the back of your skull. Nothing but bones, and now not only do people not care, but they dont remember. Your nothing.
ouch.