Fix You

#NowPlaying: Six Degrees of Separation by The Script

Dear Friend, 

  I wish someone could help me. I have no idea what to do anymore. I've been so lost, doing so many reckless things and all that shit. And that's not who I am. It feels like I'm reaching out and pulling myself back in at the same time. No one really knows what's on my mind lately, mostly because I prefer not to say anything. But I wish there was one person who'd see behind this facade, the fake smiles and all the walls I've quickly built around me. I wish I had a friend who'd help fix me, even though it's not an easy task. I just need somebody...please.

  I've been drinking a lot these past weeks. Drinking a lot. Maybe it's my way of trying to drown out the pain, the helplessness and frustration I've been feeling. Trust me, as much as I enjoy drinking with my friends, I doesn't work out well for me. And yet, here I am, not almost sober asking one of my friends if he wants to drink with me again next week. Why? I don't know. I'm only doing things out of desperation and impulse. What has become of me? I used to be this girl who was cheerful, who was happier. What happened? Why did I let myself come to this?

  Maybe, I'm just sick of life. No, not in a suicidal way. Maybe. Whatever.  It's just that, somehow I am never content with what happens. It's change: it either happens too fast or too slow. So I choose to take it to my own hands. But that's not good. So I'm writing to you, dear friend, in hopes that you'd understand and that I can confide to you. Because I need a friend. I need you. Sigh. I'm in tears. I wish I had someone to catch me when I fall. I didn't have to feel so alone all the time. I want to feel okay again. I just can't do this alone.

  Sometimes, I wonder if there's still anyone out there who cares. I know, I sound like an emotional, no-one-gives-a-fuck-about-me , whiny bitch. But that's it. I've been giving so much for people who don't even notice. And it hurts because I still continue to do it, making a fool out of myself. And I don't think I'll ever stop doing it. Because it's me. And I'm stupid. And I'm hopeless. I'm loveless and yet still full of love... ironic.

Would it be too silly to wish to be saved? Is it too late to be saved?

Help me.

Love Always,
Yasmeen