There was this period of time when I was very happy. Overly happy. So happy it would make one sick. And I must say I enjoyed being carefree for a bit. But I took it for granted, thought it would last or something. Part of my happiness was due to my boyfriend. I started to focus totally on him so I would forget myself. I wanted to become him in a way. But it's been 2 months... and I'm in love with him, I am. But I'm not happy. And I want him to know it's not because of him, he brought the happiness in the first place. I'm just being myself again. But I don't think he's in love with the depressed, cynical, angry me. He's in love with the sappy "life-is-good" me. And the thing is, the "life-is-good" me just isn't me. I don't want to lose him, but I don't want to hold him down. And I'm numb to his kisses. He feels this void, but I lie to him and say I'm fine. I vomit in his bathroom. I cry in his bed. I think about his knife sitting on the counter, and the calming sensation of mettle slitting flesh when all else is numbing and cold. But as soon as he walks through a door or wraps his arms around me, I'm all smiles and crude humor again. This mask is getting heavy. I love you. God, I love you. While I want to cling to him and scream "don't go! Don't you dare leave me! I need you..." I feel myself slipping away. And I don't want to slip away again. I just want one glint of light that lasts. I just want to know that no matter how much I hate myself or the world, he will see some good in me and be my reason to swallow life for a while longer.