I'm sitting here, and I say *uck it! I'm tired of caring. I can't give myself no more. No matter, for what. I lose at the game it seems every time I open myself to it. Don't believe them sweet talking men, they just want to toy with ya for what ever reason. Who knows maybe someone hurt them real bad and they need to hurt someone else, or maybe their just real good con artist, not looking for your money (or maybe they r if u have some...lol) but to watch your heart bleed, after they have crushed it. Who's to say only they would know. I just know that I will never open my heart to another man, lay my soul out, and then wait for the blow. I have played in the play ground of life for to long to go down that slide once more. I thought (naive of me) this is it. A real genuine man. That wants love like I, more then anything else. that really cared for me, even loved me.

I should have known. I should have, really I should have, because no one has ever loved me. Yet he made me feel special, beautiful, a rarity. Know one has ever said the things he said to me, never. No one ever made me feel confident until him. Now I only feel numbness, dumbness, and at lost in the world. Now what am I to think. Can someone tell me. I should have known. Sure we can't live with out money, we need to eat, and a place to lay our heads down at night. But he had me going with all that mushy love songs, poems, and sweet whispers in my ear. Yeah right. Like u ever really cared. Are u just a lonely hurting man, or a con artist? And if your either one, well I hope your happy now, cause u set out to accomplish what u must have been seeking after all long. To take any trust I had left. Just peachy.

I'm tired of hurting. You know that deep seated feeling in the pit of your gut. Feeling as if u can't live another day, without him. But u know now he was no good, it was all a smoke screen. A cover up to paint your world with beauty, then white wash it, with a huge paint brush, of sarcasm of hurtful words. Yeah paint me again, a pretty picture, except this time. I won't let my guard down. And I will see through the smoke.

I'm tired of bleeding, yet I choose not to make the other bleed in return. I don't want to hurt, so I don't want to hurt another. What good can come of it? What will I accomplish. Except blood on my own hands, and living life remembering what I have done. Yet if your reading this, I want you to know, I'm not angry, yes I'm hurting, I do not wish u harm, I don't want to see u bleeding, yes I wish I really new what u really r thinking, yet I will love u even now. Except I will stay in my numbness, for I don't want to care, hurt, or bleed another day.