(Morning of) Twenty-Four Lapkritis of Twenty Eleven

I'm starting to realize how my entire life revolved around him. I remember, he was the one who made me start saying "twenty eleven" instead of "two thousand and eleven."
Like I said earlier today, "He made me everything that I am. I don't know who do be without him."

And now, it's almost Christmas. And he hates Christmas music. (And I miss him).

I couldn't stand it. I texted him this morning. He told me to call him. I had to fight it out of myself, but I finally told him the truth. He referenced something from "The Hangover," a movie I've never seen.
But this is the clip: Hangover fight
I can't disagree with him.

He told me to delete his number, he had already deleted mine, and to never speak to him again. I kept my cool for hours. I finally broke down in the shower. Everything I built myself to be was from him. And now I hate myself. I don't want to do anything. There's no motivation for me to achieve or aspire. I don't care anymore.

I never cared about anything but him. And yet, I hurt him in such a way. And I still don't know why. I don't understand what lead me to it. I suppose I was just hoping to toss the guy into the corner and abandon him; in fact, the other guy knew he always took a back seat to my love.

And yet, I hurt him. I stabbed him all the way through and his heart will bleed until the day he dies. And I stabbed myself with the same rod.
This trap (from "Saw IV") is a perfect example. Except the genders are switched. While the rods are placed in deadly spots on the male, the female can recover from her wounds. But if she doesn't leave, they will both bleed to death and die.

Today, I was asked what I wanted for Christmas.
I sent my mom a serious list.
But now, I'm thinking of more serious things.
I want a car.
I want three jumbo bottles of sleeping pills.
I want a gun.
I want someone to convince him to kill me.
I want this all to be over.

I'm tired of crying.
I have to jump to acceptance; I can't even deny.

'Fingers clenched together,
just five holding two.
Twisted ankles support a barricade,
I push my own walls.
Soft sniffles
tears drop into her hair.
She looks up at another.
"I'm here."
her eyes well.
He's not.'