Feeling spaced, breathing out Listerine.

I'm scared. I keep hearing voices but I know everyones asleep. Putting that into words on the screen scares me even more. I don't know what it is. I don't know how to explain it. I want it to stop.
First week of school is over. 34 more to go. That doesn't seem so bad. I can make it.
I think my heart is going to stop. I'm fucking scared out of my mind.

Wake up and read this before morning,
and call me.

I need to talk to someone.
Not something I hear that isn't really there.
Not someone who stops in the middle to go attend to something else. That makes me even more scared to be here by myself.

Okay,
Goodnight.

Keep breathing, keep searching.

Well, this is it. My final year of high school begins in 11 hours. I turn 18 in 2 weeks and 3 days. Things are finally happening. I'm feeling pretty great. Thinking a lot. I have a lot of stuff to do; stuff to get straight. Stuff to decide. It feels so strange. I feel like I've been looking forward to this time in my life since I turned 13. At the same time, it's all come at once. I don't know if I'm ready. I don't know if I want it to be here it all. It's all so real.
I'm not ready. I'm NOT ready.

But I need to be. I don't think I'm going to sleep tonight.

When I look in your eyes, what am I supposed to do?

I'm in Maine. It's cold and foggy and I don't get cell phone service very well. I like being with my family; relaxing, thinking. I'd much rather be with you though. I miss the heat that I've spent a majority of the summer complaining about. I want to go back to this time last week, and make you hide away in my suitcase so you'd be here with me. I want you to see all this. It's beautiful. But I miss you more then you ever know. I hear it raining, but maybe the sound is just in my mind. I am the goddess of weather, you know. I change it to my emotions. Today fits. I can't wait to come home. You have the most beautiful smile I've ever seen. Really. No paid model could ever compete with you. I want to hold you again. It feels like it's been years. Not good. I'm lonely. My grandma's lipstick greased kisses are nothing to yours. And it's cold. I need you to warm me up. You don't even have to be physically close to me to do that. I have 8 more days of this, until I can see you again. I can't wait.
I mean, this is nice.
But you're nicer.