Oh the boy named Martin

Theres a boy obviously, as there is always. He is cute, tall, super sweet, an amazing dancers, and he likes me. It was so exciting and Im in college, isn't this how its supposed to go? Oh but wait, he found the word hate I carved into myself and he doesn't understand why I freak out when he touches my stomach. Im wrapped in a blanket of my own trust issues.
The issue is that most the time if I really, really like someone, I want to tell them these things. Its like word vomit I can't hold back. But this boy, something makes me not trust him. Maybe its the way he different around people than when we are just alone or possible its because after I tell him no he keeps trying anyway.
Bottom line? I miss kody. I miss how he holds me, the way he smells, how weird we are together, but most of all I miss how I was allowed to tell him how much I love him (and how much I still do).

Colton.

I want to help you lovely, I really do. But how can I help you when being your support is making me lose my ground. When being your 2 am makes me need a 3 am. I’m sorry you hurt, I’m sorry your sad, and I’m sorry I can’t ever seem to help you. But I want you to live as much as I want me to live. And if I’m dead how can I help you? I want you to want to live. I wish I could show you how amazing life gets after you stop the depression and the cutting and the drugs and the suicide wishes. But you can’t really want to survive unless it’s you who decides you need to survive. Do you realize death is the end? Its not a pause button in life, its not a chance to see who loves you enough to show up to your funeral and it sure as hell isn’t a chance to start over. Death isn’t even peace. Death is nothingness, its black, empty, cold, and just the end. But no matter how much you hurt right now lovely, you won’t hurt less with death. I’ve been there, believe me, I’ve been to the point of curling up on the floor, crying, shaking, and just wanting to end it so bad that you pick up those pills. But lovely, those pills taste like shit, and wont make you feel any better. I’ve been to the point of being so empty feeling; you just want to bleed out your tears. But lovely, those razors only help until after the cuts close, and then you’re just left with huge scars that will always raise questions. I want to help you so bad that I’ve stayed up late talking to you and cried while texting you to stop you from overdosing. Lovely, I wish you every happiness you could ever possibly achieve, all the love in the world, and the best life possible. But lovely, don’t be sad so others will try to cheer you up and don’t be someone so others will like you, because trying to be sad will only make things worse, and being someone else will only make you lose yourself