"My life sucks...

i want to die, so egt me a gun or razor to try..."
I wrote that poem a good 6 years ago. First one I ever wrote. Right after my first HS heartbreak. Not a real one, as I see now, but still the pain I felt was true to me, even if ti was total BS. I bring this up because now when I feel true pain, i can do nothing. My muse is dead, gone form this place...barely a whisper in my mind. So what happens? Shit egts kept in. Worse possbile thing ever. Fuck even writing this is making me feel emotions. Before the m,ilitary i was able to be rock hard, and not care, ale to be totally indifferent...my weakness was my weak self. I let people walk all over me. So here I am a few years later, a few years older. Now people dont walk all over me..noone does. But the inner me is now my weakness. He feels...he cares...he loves. And its killer...Id trade the sht i took bacl then for the pain i feel...if only i could be indifferent again..not caring about squat..fuck this i have stuff i should be doing...not like i care bout getting in trouble anymore right? and to quote Norm Macdonald..well sort of qutoe him..."Note to self" prediction was true hahahahaahahahah....ok that was just for me to laugh at...dont worry noone of you are suposed to egt it