[F]ractured.//minD_

A wispy trail of smoke dances on my lips as I let the drag of the cigarette I just took fall out of my mouth instead of making a decisive action whether or not to finish inhaling or blow the smoke back out. You'd think I'd have better things to do than pay attention to such a simple act. You'd also think I'd have better things to do than realize I just wasted a few moments paying attention to said simple act.

I make a decision and blow out the smoke only to take another drag. Looking about; I realize how artistic everything seems. Artistic? Maybe a little cliché. I've been standing in this park for awhile now. Looking for a way to escape my apartment... looking for a way to spend a little time with myself. Getting away from the noises. The voices. The sadness. But there's humor in that. The humor is that the voices don't go away. The noises don't go away. I close my eyes and allow myself to listen.

“It's such a beautiful night... thank you for taking a walk with me.” says a nearby female voice. I can hear the footsteps of her and her partner as they walk by and yet they pass by without a pause in their footsteps to show any recognition that I'm in their vicinity. The footsteps continue down the paved sidewalk until the sound can be distinguished as being beyond the light posts and into the shadows beyond.

I take another drag of my cigarette and I can feel the burning from the embers of it draw closer to my face. A voice fades in right next to me as if someone had slowly turned up the volume on a stereo. “... and it's not always going to be this way. If you ever need someone to listen, I'm here...” and the voice fades out again. I smile to myself and toss my cigarette to the ground; crushing it quickly so that I can light up another cigarette. I knew that voice was for me. But, sometimes it's hard to see where the voices come from.

For the duration of my memory; I've always known who I was. A soul trapped in between worlds. It's often you hear stories about spirits who are trapped between the world of the living and the world of the dead. I reside between those two worlds... the world of the living, and the world where the dead are trapped between the world of the living and the world of the dead. Not even a being of life or death or even mid-death. An abnormality. An anomaly. A glitch in the system. Amazingly enough, even with such dejected thoughts; being an “accident” in life never has been part of them.

I take a long drag from my cigarette, listening to the soft crackling noise that comes from it and blow out the smoke. This time with the thought of wanting the smoke to get away from me. I know it's not good for me... but neither is allowing myself to remain in this state of being without searching for a solution. I've been doing that also for the duration of my memory; accepting that I can't be one or the other. As easy as it would be to slip into one of those worlds without causing a commotion; like most people, I find it easier to succumb to my own self pity. It's easier to appreciate your own angst than it is to appreciate things that resolve it. Selfishness is your escape route from reality.

I close my eyes and let the winter night air attempt to create a glaze of frost on my skin. I'm startled by the sensation of hand on my left shoulder. I look over and I see a familiar face. One from one of the worlds I've attempted to join on many occasions. On that face is a familiar smile. I recognize him. Then I hear a voice to my right, “If those don't kill you, I'm going to. Put that out.” To my right, another familiar face with that familiar mischievous look in her eyes. I put out my cigarette because I know that she's not kidding. She wouldn't kill me; but the guilt of loyalty and kindness would. From behind me, another voice... a kindred of blood that isn't my own. I can feel my eyes ache and swallow tightly, knowing full well what would follow if I didn't stop that emotion in it's tracks.

I close my eyes again to suppress any tears that might try to escape. I open my eyes and there I am again; standing alone in this park that has been my escape so many times. I love it here; especially at night. It gives me a chance to escape. A chance to escape from myself and my selfishness; and to appreciate the things in my life that help keep me grounded to either world... or in all actuality, to keep me tied to both worlds. Sometimes it's not so bad being trapped in between worlds... because it lets me be unrestricted. It lets me have an identity that separates me from becoming another voice in a seemingly endless chorus of mundanes.

More voices fade in; further away this time. “Remember this spot? This is where we first met...” Another voice, delicate and small replies, “How could I forget... I love you...” and the voices fade out as quickly as they arrived.

I am a ghost by choice. Not a ghost of someone deceased; but a ghost of someone reborn into a world that won't have him... that happens to be inhabited by a very select group of individuals that will. People who own a fragment of my soul; that can easily return that fragment and release me from the very world that doesn't want to keep me.

A car alarm goes off with it's rhythmic and irritating honking pattern for a few moments before it cuts off with a computerized “beep”. “Leave my fucking car alone!” shouts a voice from the street. I smirk to myself. Mundane.


I take the last cigarette from my pack and light it. I take a drag and then say quietly, “It's such a beautiful night... thank you for taking a walk with me.” I smile to myself because I know that as much as I'm surrounded by voices that I can't help hear; my voice can be heard as well by those who have become a part of this ghost's life. Oxymoron but effective. The sound of my footsteps can be heard fading away as I walk away into the shadows to rejoin my reality.

"It's kinda weird. You're one of the first people to talk to me like a normal person. I mean, I know I've seen you a few times before; but I haven't really gotten to talk to you."

I smile and turn my head to look at him. I end up staring directly into his eyes. I feel my face flush and hope he doesn't notice in the dim lighting. "Well, you ARE a normal person; right?" He sighs a little and looks out across the parking lot. I look out across the parking lot as well and we stand together in silence.

A low thumping noise can be heard coming from the bar behind us. Anymore, if you want a cigarette, you have to go outside and behind a building to the "Smoker's Area". It's nice that we have our own out-of-the-way designated spot, even though the same people who bitch about smoke are inside inhaling gallons of synthetic smoke. I don't mind that much though. That's how I ran into him tonight. I was outside having my usual hourly nicotine fix and he came outside for one too.

"I don't usually smoke... but tonight I need one." he says, breaking my internal rant.

"What's different about tonight?" I ask.

"I don't have the cops watching over me." he chuckles as he takes the last drag from his cigarette and tosses it into the ashtray. "Wanna hang out with me and have another?"

I look at my cigarette and realize it put itself out. I toss it into the ashtray as well and light another one. "Damn cigarettes keep smoking themselves." I joke. He smiles his goofy smile and lights his.

He gets quiet again and his face looks as if he is searching for something deep and profound to say. "Uhhh..." he musters, "Yeah. I guess I might seem pretty normal."

"What?" I ask, obviously confused.

"You asked if I was normal. I look normal, right?"

I smile, "Well, yeah. I don't see why not. Why wouldn't you be normal?"

He sighs again. "It's nice having a break from the cops."

"I know you don't mean actual cops, so who are you talking about?" I ask him.

"My parents. I'm not allowed to do much when I go out. Lately, I haven't even been able to hang out with my friends."

I must've had a confused look on my face, because he continues. "Recently, I've come to terms with some things. It's made me less normal than my parents would like me to be. They're extremely conservative... my dad even is part of the NRA. Said if he ever found out I was having those kind of thoughts again, he'd kill me. Scarily enough, I believe him." He takes in a long drag of his cigarette and let's it gently roll out of his mouth, not even once looking at me.

I understand exactly what he's trying to say. "That fucking sucks. It's okay though. Your still normal. Otherwise, I must be fucked up too."

As soon as I said that, he looked directly into my face. "Yer kidding me. You don't seem to be... yanno." I partially smile, "Well... guess not everyone is exactly as they seem. Whether it's right or wrong." He smiles back at me and his vibrant brown eyes peer directly into mine. I feel my face flush again and I look back across the parking lot.

I take another drag off of my cigarette and he does the same. "I'm serious about my dad though... It's scary as shit sometimes. I'm terrified that one of these times, I'm going to be the topic of some news broadcast about how a father killed his son because of.."

I interrupt, "Nah. It won't happen. I'd protect ya." He smiles and looks into my face again, "Why would you do that?"

I flush again slightly but keep my stance, "Well... I know we don't know each other that well aside from the club and bar scene and what not. But, I've kinda always... I dunno. Well, it's like... shit, I dunno what I'm talking about." I take another drag from my cigarette and look back to the same blank spot on the pavement that I've been looking at for most of the night. I hear him clear his throat and I look over to him. His eyes look shiny in the dim lighting. I step over to him and wrap my arms around him.

"It's okay. I understand." I tell him. My entire body flushes with warmth and nervousness.
"That's the reason why I needed a cigarette tonight. I needed to see you again." he says in a hushed voice.

I could feel my breath stop in my chest, "Really?" He replies with an audible smile, "Yeah." He cautiously wraps his arms around my back but then clings on so tightly that I can't tell if it's embrace or my emotions that are keeping my from breathing. We hold each other quietly for a few moments. I can feel the warmth of his face pressed against my neck. It feels like everything that usually matters doesn't anymore. Anything I would normally ramble about escapes me; even my usually bad-timed humor I use to make situations less tense.

Footstep noises scrape the pavement as they approach our designated area. We quickly brake our embrace and I turn to the noise. "You fucking faggot." says the owner of the footsteps. I feel my face blanch as I recognized that it's his father. "I trust you for one night and you queer it up! I swear to God, Shawn... No son of mine is.."

I take a step forward, "Sir, it's nothing like..."

"SHUT UP HOMO! Nobody wants to listen to your queer bullshit!"

"Dad, he didn't do anything!" Shawn protests.

"All you faggots are the same! My son ain't no faggot! You are shit! You are nothing! I've had enough of this bull shit! YOU'RE DISGUSTING!" His father reaches into his jacket and pulls out a small hand gun.

"Fuck! RUN!" I yell as I push Shawn into the opposite direction. Shawn takes off running and I quickly lunge onto his father, knocking him to the ground. "Get off me you fucking queer!" he screams. We struggle on the ground as I try to throw punches wherever and whenever I can so I can get the gun away. A sudden punch to my cheek leaves me stunned, giving his father a chance to get a better hold on the gun. Realizing I won't get the gun away from him; I slug him in the face with all my strength. I stun him in return and take off running in Shawn's direction.

Shawn had hidden behind a car at the furthest end of the vast parking lot. Luckily, the parking lot was full; so it was an easy place to hide. He comes out from behind his hiding spot and waves to me. I walk towards him, "It's okay. I got away, but we gotta go!" He nods and looks around to see where we can escape to. Suddenly, there's a loud popping sound as if someone's car had backfired. I feel my heart jump into my throat and at that instant everything goes completely silent. I stand there for a few seconds, trying to see if I had gone deaf. I look into Shawn's face and in a sort of slow-motion I see it twist into an exaggerated look of anguish. The back of my shirt suddenly feels wet. I turn around to see what splashed on me and there in the distance stands his father looking right at us. His arm outstretched, holding an object that I can't quite see in the low lighting.

Everything continues to be stuck in a slow-motion style. Things begin to cloud, like my eyes are starting to fill with tears. But I'm not crying. His father turns around and runs the other direction. It was almost humorous. Like he was a mime impersonating a runner. My knees begin to weaken and I collapse to the ground.

Things start to seem like choppy scenes of a movie. Like a VHS Tape that has been overplayed and is about to snap. I can feel Shawn trying to sit me up and lean me against him. I tilt my head back to look into his face and see that his eyes are red and watery. Why was he crying? I reach up to touch his cheek and I can see that his mouth is moving as if he's saying something, but I hear no sounds. Not the screams of the woman walking out of the bar who sees me lying there. Not the mournful cries for help from Shawn. Nothing.

I try to ask him why he's crying, but no words come out of my mouth. It saddens me... those beautiful deep brown eyes shouldn't be tainted with tears... I notice that it seems to be getting darker outside. I understand. If this is what dying is like, then life truly was worth it. Because it led me to this very moment. This perfect time. I close my eyes and enjoy the warmth that I feel from Shawn's body... the gentleness I feel from his hand on my cheek... the gentle rocking of him and I together... I said I'd protect you...

------------

The warmth against my body never left me. I still feel the warmth of his hand intertwined with mine. It starts to get brighter outside. But, it wasn't the kind of brightness you enjoy in the summer sun. I open my eyes slightly, but the brightness hurts my eyes. It takes a few moments, but I finally get them to stay open without fluttering. I look around and noticed I'm not outside. I'm in some sort of big white room on an extremely uncomfortable bed. Well, not entirely uncomfortable. I'm still leaning against Shawn.

His eyes are still filled with tears and redness. His face no longer holds the awful twisted image. Instead there is a tired smile. "He's awake! He's awake!!" I hear him exclaim. His voice... I can hear that deep alluring voice that I'd fallen in love with again. He wraps his arms around me and I can hear him sob softly. A woman in a colorful smock runs into the room and smiles brightly. She looks at some machine that's on the side of my bed and nods to Shawn. He lets out a huge sigh. She then walks out of the room without saying a word to me. I'm barely able to get my voice to work, but finally manage to ask, "Where am I?" Shawn whispers, "In my arms."

For a few moments, all I'm able to see is the seductive dance of the smoke rising from my cigarette. I guess I zoned out there for a minute... Everything starts coming into focus again. Who I am... Where I am.... What I'm doing here... A weather-worn looking man in a wife-beater and a worn-out pair of jeans walks past me and smiles that "knowing" smile. I hesitate for a moment, thinking that he's not really my type. But, then again I've learned that it shouldn't matter. Everyone should be my type. So, I follow him. He notices me following him and slows his pace so he can match mine.

"Where's all the action tonight?" he asks.

I smile and reply, "Where the green stands; I stand with it."

Psychedelic... We walk a couple of more blocks down the nearly empty street. He gestures towards the apartment stairs that we have stopped in front of. I drop my cigarette and step on it. He smiles and starts walking up and I follow him. At the top of the third flight of stairs, we walk up to the door of his studio apartment. I can tell this place is ultra-classy; Aside from the 70's shag carpeting that was caked down with dirt and an unusual smell that lingers in the hallway, there paint on the door frame looks decayed. Sarcasm is sexy. I cant decide if its a good smell or a bad smell. As soon as I hear the door click open, I decide I'd rather not know.

We walk in the door. There's boxes lying around showing that either he just moved in or is just about to move out. Not that it really matters I guess. He sits on the bed and asks me how much?

"Two hundred," I say in a monotonous tone. "More, if you want to do weird shit."

He reaches into his wallet and puts the money on the nightstand next to the sheet-less bed. He says I can pick it up when we're done. I nod to him and he tells me to take off my shirt. I nod and slowly begin undoing the buttons on my shirt.

He sits on the bed and lights a cigarette and as I finish unbuttoning my shirt. I notice the smoke trailing from his cigarette. My mind begins to wander...

I remember your face vividly, it's like the last time I saw you was only a day ago. Your beautiful eyes... your bewitching smile... the defined line that traces along the ridge of your jaw... your beckoning lips. I remember the last thing you said to me. "I always have and I always will love you." I remember the last thing I felt... the gentleness of your hand grazing my cheek and your smooth warm lips gently caressing my own. I fell in love with you even more that moment.

"Well?" asks the stranger.

"I... uh..." I shake my head. "Sorry." I start to take off my undershirt. I guess I had already dropped my shirt on the floor. As I pull off my t-shirt, he unbuttons his jeans. He leans back against his elbows and watches me. He seems to lose patience and tells me to hurry up and finish getting undressed. After kicking off my shoes and socks, I slide my fingers into my waistband and pull my jeans and boxer briefs down to my ankles and look at him with a mischievous grin. He grins back and beckons me to him. I step out of my jeans and walk towards him. He grabs my hand and pulls me down to lay on top of him. The smell of sweat and musk fills my nose and I become woozy. I realize that some of the unusual smell came from him. He wasn't exactly the best, but I learned that it doesn't matter... as long as I get the job done.

He kisses me roughly and then places his hands on my shoulders to push me towards what he really wanted. I climb down to his feet and pull off his dirty jeans and sweat-stained underwear and begin to do what I was hired for. He tilts his head back and lets out a moan. He reaches over to the ashtray for his cigarette and continues smoking. He exhales the smoking, blowing it towards my face. The smoke goes into my eyes and they start to burn and water, but I continued earning my wage.

I remember the laughter that we shared. We used to joke around all of the time. I remember when you would pass out at my house and we would talk until the sun began to rise. It was almost ritualistic. I would make some wise-crack and then you'd make one too. Before we knew it we were wrestling around hitting each other with pillows. Then in the middle of the entire ruckus, we would stop and stare lovingly into each others eyes. "I love you." And you would say, "Me too." I took that for more than it was worth. I guess it meant something to me.

I'd wake up the next morning in a stupor from staying up much longer than I should have. I'd sneak out of bed and pull on my boxer briefs that were haphazardly tossed on the floor. After taking a cigarette out of the half-crushed pack; I'd light it, but not really smoke it. You always told me it was a dirty habit and I should quit. I would look back and just watch you. Sleeping so peacefully... You looked so beautiful, stretched out on the bed, surrounded by the ultra plush comforter. Your body looked so perfect in the sunlight that pierced into the usually dark room. Every inch of your skin seemed to glow. Completely naked, you reminded me of a living statue. You looked perfect. It was impossible for me to see any flaws.

I snap back to reality as a horrible pain rips through my body. The stranger had thrown me onto my stomach and was proceeding to violate my backside. His deep moaning and groaning let me know that he was getting what he paid for. The pain is unbearable. Probably because I dont really want to be with him and I was fighting him. I think he realizes this, because now he is pushing my face into the bed and holding my arms behind my back as he continues to rape me. I guess it really isnt rape. I was struggling a bit, but he paid his money.

I better get back to work. I arch my hips back so he could get a better angle inward. He senses my willingness and let go of my arms, but still seems to not care whether I was into it or not. He continues thrusting violently against me. At least he has common sense to use protection. I dont know why I didnt have the same common sense. I guess I just didnt care anymore. Oddly enough, for not caring, I seemed to constantly be safe or be with people who were safe. He starts slamming into me harder and harder. I felt like he wanted to kill me by literally fucking me to death.

I remember that night you wanted to do something special. We went to see a movie. We sat there in the middle of the back row where it was darkest. You could tell I wasn't enjoying the movie, but I was having a great time. Just the fact that I was with you made me one of the happiest people in the world. You even went that extra mile to be cute and did the cliché "yawn, stretch, put your arm around me" routine. I laughed and I felt my body melt. It might be cheesy, but it was sweet.

The next day you handed me a rose. You said to me, "You are my world." Thats all you needed to say to me. Our bodies pressed tightly together our lips pressed tightly together and when we parted, it was too soon. I remember all of those moments. I can't forget them. Even if I had tried. I have tried.

The stranger must have been almost finished. His panting is much more rapid and I could feel the sweat running off of his face and onto my bare back. The sensation disgusts me. He doesn't even seem to notice that I'm even here. He finally climaxes and then he falls ontop of me. The unusual smell radiating from him now is mixed with the smell of sex and sweat. I start to move so that he'll get off of me. "Don't move. I'm not fucking done with you yet." he mumbles. I could still feel him inside me. I guess he really isn't done, but I was. He got his two hundred dollars worth. He slowly starts to fuck me again. The sensation of pain radiates through me again. "Stop. You're done." I reply. "I'm done when I say I'm done!" the man growls. He begins to slide into me harder. "Dude, get off." I protest.

With that, I get slammed in the back of my head with a closed fist. The pain shoots through to my face and down my spine. I stop moving. My mind is a distorted. He continues to fuck me. I try to move again and he punches me in my back. I stop moving again. I can't move. I feel numb. He climbs off of me and turns me onto my back. I feel pain still... at least I know my spine isn't broken. I try to push him away and he collapse ontop of me and begins hitting me over and over. I tried to block, but he didn't care where he hit me. My face... my ribs... my chest... I stop resisting.. I stop blocking his strikes.. I don't care anymore. He then moves to the side and lifts my legs so that my knees are up to my shoulders. He begins to rape me again. Everytime I make a noise or protest, he punches me in the face or wherever. I notice my face feels wet and I clumsily touch my face. Pain shoots through my face. I look at my finger tips. They're covered in blood. I close my eyes and let the stranger continue his assault.

I remember that last day. You had all of your bags packed and you were standing outside on the front porch. I can't remember a time that I cried so hard. I kept asking you why? Why were you leaving? You didn't ever answer me. I think my spirit died that day. My soul went into the deepest darkest part of my body, not to return. I just remember feeling my heart break. Many people speak of being heart-broken but on that day, I actually felt it break. You looked back to me with tears in your eyes and then got into your car and drove away. I havent seen you since then.

The shaking of the bed had stopped. My legs were now laying flat. I looked around and saw the stranger kneeling next to me. He climaxed on my blood-soaked face. The stranger finally calms down and gets off the bed. He walks to the foot of the bed and pulls on his clothes. "Get up," he growls to me. "You're done whore. Slut. Faggot. Whatever the fuck you want to be called. Get your money." I try to get up and feel pain shoot through my body. I sit there for a moment and then try again. Slowly, I get off the bed and put my jeans and underwear back on. I take the money off of the nightstand and put it into my pocket. I'm not even thinking. I can't even really see right now cause blood keeps going into my eye. I slide my shoes back on. The stranger walks over to me and kicks me from behind. I fall to the ground. "Fucking faggot!" he yells, and begins kicking me in the stomach. The pain... the pain was gone. I think the pain had become so much that I had simply gone numb. All I could feel was my broken heart.

The stranger stops kicking me. Maybe he wasn't having fun anymore. He throws another hundred dollar bill at me. "There's the extra for the weird shit." I look up at him the best I can. I barely can even see his features anymore... too much blood. Too many tears... I cough and some blood sprays onto my lips and chest. I wipe tears and blood from my eyes and look at him again. I can't focus... but.. he looks so beautiful. His eyes... his bewitching smile... the defined line that traces along the ridge of his jaw.... his beckoning lips. "I love you," I mutter.

He laughs. I continue to lay there, shivering and naked. He turns and walks out of the apartment. I'm now crying. Or, at least I think I'm crying. Searing pain rushes through my ribs and I realize that they are either broken or fractured. A haziness rushes over me and I sit back on the floor. My breathing becomes shallower and darkness begins to descend upon me. I close my eyes, not caring if they open again or not.

I remember sitting in the darkness of my bedroom. I'd tried calling you several times. The only company that had been with me for the past couple of days had been the almost empty bottle of whiskey and the already empty bottle of vodka that lied on the floor. I idly poked at the bottle with my bare foot and continued waiting for the phone to ring. Every time the phone rang, I jumped up to answer it. "Robert, are you there? Hello?" spoke the voice from the phone. I just sat there, listening crying... "Robert?? Are you okay?" I hung up the receiver. It wasn't you. It was someone else.

I hear the door squeak open. My body jolts awake and I quickly look around. I know he's come back to make sure I'm dead. A man steps into the room and gasps. I sigh. It's not him. He quickly rushes over to me and kneels down. I begin coughing again. No blood escapes from my mouth this time. I hear him talking to me but I cant tell what he's actually saying. Finally words start to make sense. "Are you okay, man? What happened? Why are you in my apartment? I'm calling an ambulance. Do you need some water??" He wraps a blanket around me and gets on the phone. He actually seems concerned. I see him in the other room talking on the phone. I stand up as best as I can. Strange... It's like I've seen this guy some where before. I grab my crumpled up shirt and quietly sneak towards the door. I hear the man giving his address to the operator on the other line. I quickly exit the apartment and run down the stairs. No need to bring him into my world.

I'm walking down the street, wiping off the blood from my face and chest. The pain is starting to subside probably from being numb... I reach back and wipe off the stranger's bodily fluids he left on my back. There we go. All better. Aside from the black eye, the jacked up ribs, and the cracked lip; I don't look that bad. The bruises and some of the wounds can be ignored. The cuts have stopped bleeding.

I remember how upset you got with me when I said that if you can date other people, so can I. I didnt like the fact that you wanted me to be there for you always, but you wouldn't always be there for me. You wanted to be able to fuck whoever you wanted and here I was supposed to wait for you like some kept housewife knowing that her husband is having an affair. I remember how mad I would get that you would have these random people in our bed that you constantly hooked up with. I felt like less than a person. I cried often. I still loved you even when you did stuff like that.

Now I'm standing on that nearly deserted street again. I see a couple of other guys standing around also. I ask the guy closest to me if he has a cigarette and he reaches into his half-crushed soft pack of cigarettes and takes one out for me. He lights my cigarette for me and begins to look at my body. "What happened to you?"

I smile and slightly cough up a slight trace of blood, "I remembered something." He looks at me for a few moments and then shakes his head and goes back to standing where he originally was. I start to zone out, while watching the seductive dance of the smoke from my cigarette. The soft gray swirls dancing about like a silky soft ribbon caught in a light wind. It starts strong near the dull red glow of the cigarette tip and the further it gets away from the source, the fainter it gets. How beautifully symbolic. I lean up against the brick wall behind me. I smile and sigh, "I love you. I always have and always will."

I do this from time to time. Change my whole online persona and have to have everything match. Sadly, Dreamwidth doesn't make it easy to change your username so I basically have to delete the other account and transfer over what I want. Since I'm starting fresh, I'm just going to transfer over my writings. This will still be entirely a place for me to word vomit all over the place and get out emotions.

I just want to give a disclaimer that these are MY feelings and I don't need them invalidated. Whether they are true or not, that doesn't make them any less felt. While my feelings might/will change at a later date, what I'm feeling at that very moment is real.

This is not a place for me to call my "Safe Haven" only to have friends/family come at me. If you don't want to know what I'm feeling, then don't read my journal. I don't want replies. I don't want commentary. And if you feel that you HAVE to comment... well, fuck off. Now if I was posting stuff all over the internet/social media/etc., then you 100% have the right to go off and explain. But this is my fucking journal/diary. Respect that or you don't respect me and life is too short to have those kind of people in my life.