In the end it just feels like I’m doing something wrong, like there’s something wrong with me. I just want to wake up next to someone. I want the silly things, like soft kisses, hand holding, cuddling up & falling asleep with someone in my arms. —- All I know is I’m lonely. I feel like I have nothing left. I’m not sure just how much more of this I can take.
I’m definitely slipping in to a depression. I need to find motivation somehow. I don’t know what to do. It feels like I have no one to talk to. So instead I post these stupid journals. Scratching the voiceless words into the rock face, on the wall in a dark cave for someone to discover. Maybe someone will understand, maybe someone will care. I doubt it. Why would anyone care about me if I don’t care about myself."
— Gene Sprague’s journal. (via anniecblaga)