I have this feeling. This bad feeling. I'm scared. I hope it's just anxiety attacks, and just a bad feeling, but I'm really scared Dexter had sex with someone else last night. In our apartment. I don't know why I think that. I am scared. I think I want to die. I won't. I'm praying that I'm just mind-fucking myself. I don't think he would do that. But at the same time, there's no reason why he couldn't. We broke up. It's hard for me to leave it at that. I want something else. Something more. And that's exactly what I can't have. Exactly what he doesn't want. And that makes me suck. I suck. I have no reason to think he did anything last night. None at all. But I still can't shake the unerlying spark from my mind. In less words, I'm fucked.'All I can say is that my life is really strange. I like watching the rain.' ----some song or other by some shitty band.