I don't know why I still keep on hoping one of these days it won't end up the same. That there won't be some excuse. I don't care if it's true, it still hurts. I won't cry. It's not worth it. He's not worth it.

I feel sick to my stomach. I'm just letting every thought get through today, just letting everything hit me so I can truly feel like shit. I can convince myself that nobody would care because I know nobody does. This doesn't even have anything to do with him anymore. Now it's all about me because I know I'm not pretty, I'm not fashionable, I'm not desirable. I'm not anything special.

I wish I was so drunk I couldn't remember my name, couldn't remember my life. This is how I feel most days, I just can't go through with it. That's the story of my life.

This is not where she thought she would die, across the street from a Page Cleaners.