I miss good times. And happy lives. I miss people in my life
And good music at the end of the day.
I miss voluntary love when i come home
And happy faces when i'm so tired.
I miss times without stress, and i miss my worlds of
dark sorrow where no pain or ailment was big enought for me not to be able to face it.
I miss having coffee on the patio on Sunday mornings,
and i miss sleeping late on Saturdays.
I miss having the time to look after myself,
and i miss being secure of myself. I miss feeling secure,
even now, when security is just so hard to come by.
I miss living with people who know how to handle stress,
and who don't throw things back at me.
I miss having things to talk about, and i miss laughing
just because i can.
sometimes i think the time during the suicidal times was
maybe the best of my life...
at least i knew what i was getting myself into,
at least i knew where i stood...
I miss living.
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