Such a dysfunctional place.
I'm Amy.
I love jazz music.
I like to think.

How much longer am I going to be able to live with myself knowing that these awful things are going on? How much longer until I am consumed with guilt and shrivel up and die? I am slowly dying. I cannot smile without feel guilty. Why should I be able to smile and not him? I don’t deserve to. Not like he does. How much longer will I not know what to do? There has to be something I can do. He won’t listen to me. He doesn’t trust me. Why doesn’t he trust me? How much longer until he trusts me?By then will it be too late? How much longer until too late? What’s wrong with me? What’s wrong with him? There’s nothing wrong with him. It’s me, just me. I am not enough. I am not smart enough. I am not mature enough. I can’t deal with things. I cry too much. How much longer until I stop crying? How much longer?