Why do we do the things that make us cry? Is it to feel alive? Is it to remind us that we can feel? Or is it a sadistic pleasure?

I read Dax's journal on Caringbridge every time there is a new update. (His mother Julie updates us on how shes doing without him and such) But I don't stop there. I go through the pictures too. It makes me cry, every time. I know it will make me cry and yet I still do it.

This ain't goodbye...this is just where love goes.

Ugh I hate being here. And I hate being alone and I hate my laptop. I'm on my itouch right now. Cried my eyes out and now I'm dozing off a little. I wish someone would text me......anyone. And as soon as someone texts me it's something upsetting I think I deserve a break and a little respect. But I can't seem to come by either.

Know what I want in life?
I want someone to leave love notes to. Someone to wake up for and regret going to sleep for. I want someone to kiss away the dull throb between my temples. Someone to smile and make my heart melt. Someone to ask me how my day was AND CARE!! Someone that will accept that I am raving mad, embrace it and run with it.

Someone to come home to. Someone to call home.
Someone
Someone
someone
someonesomeonesomeone