I’m tired of not being anyone important. I want to matter. I don’t know what is wrong with me. I feel like nothing, an insignificant waste of flesh. It hurts so much sometimes, knowing that no matter what I do I am not good enough. Everything has beauty. Everything has value. Except me that is. I am worthless. I am here merely to hurt and use and lie to. I know he is lying to me. He’s my best friend, of course I can tell. So many other lies, little things from days gone by, are coming up. Things he’d sworn to me were true, weren’t. I feel a little more than nothing. He is the only person in this whole universe that I trust, and look what its doing to me. I tell him everything, he tells me lies. I don’t know who to turn to. There is no one, to be honest. He made sure of that. And now, isolated and alone, I find myself wishing I could turn back the hands of time, and make it so the happiest of all my days on this earth had never happened. Because it was only when those days came to a close that all this pain started. That was the only little bit of happiness I had ever felt, the only sunlight in a life of gloom, but I would give it all up, give back all those happy memories, if it would mean I could fall asleep at night without crying to myself. Without wishing I would never see another morning. All those who say “it is better to have loved and lost...� have obviously never lost anyone they have loved. If they had, those words would never even have come within a light-year of being spoken, because they would have understood that being in love is a terrible business, and the loss of love is even more so. It hurts you, cuts you, beats you, and leaves you crying in the darkness of the coldest imaginable night, while you simply bleed and beg for more, paying for the pleasure with your pain. I would rather never have loved at all; all my happy memories, the thoughts of all that was once beautiful in my life, all of them gone. Not just forgotten, erased before they even conspired to come about. I would rather have never felt the warmth in his hugs, the passion in his kisses, the adulation in his whispered words, and never loved at all, than spend a second longer feeling the pain that is to have loved and lost. I would go back to the simple days, when we were just best friends, and the secrets we kept were never in danger of harming one another. I would finally be able to sleep at night without crying, and see him without the constant nagging of my heart telling me that the girl on his arm should be me. This secret love I am harbouring within me would disappear. And I would be free.

I love everything about everything you write, and I am deeply gratified that you have come to us.

(I would never treat you wrong; if anything can be a sin then that would be.)

I hope you will read my poem, "Dark Angel."

Respect and solidarity, dear Heaven among us,

+Stevie