Believe in me, because I don't believe in anything, and I want to be someone.....

The pain was amazing, because I couldn't feel it. I was so empty. My blood slowed to a crawl and inched along my veins, making everything seem thicker, longer. I sat alone, I breathed because it was automatic. Everything became nothing, and nothing became my entire focus. I couldn't see ahead, and I certainly couldn't see what was behind me. I became nothing that night, I dissolved until I ceased to exist. You don't understand because you weren't there. I sat with the bottle in my hand and counted one, two, ten, an odd number of smooth, round discs. It was that easy. Too easy. I stopped for you. I lived for you. I had no other reason. I still don't.

I have this ability to remove myself from a situation, hold it in my hand, and look at it from all angles. I can twist it and peek around corners and feel the textures along each edge. Unfortunately, when it comes to myself, I get stuck. I get trapped in the middle of my own thoughts, and I sink. I wish I could hold up my life for you, I wish I could inject the events of those days straight into your heart. I wish you could feel like I felt, then maybe you could see. I know that you are asking me the same thing, I'm not ignoring that fact, I'm just trying to show you that I can feel something as strong as you can. What you feel for her is what I feel/felt for you. When you describe it, the words sound like they have come straight from my mouth. There is a difference between the two of us because what I want can't happen, and what you want is possible. So perhaps you can see my dilemma. Or perhaps you can't. Maybe no one can feel what I feel. A consuming mix of love, jealousy, sadness, betrayal, loss, etc. It's with me all the time. It never leaves. That dull collapsed-rib ache is a part of me, and it swells with every breath I take. I wake up next to it, and, like clockwork, it reminds me of all the reasons I shouldn't be here. If only I could grab onto it and show it to you, maybe you would understand.

You told me I had to give something up, and I told you I would. What you don't know, is that I gave up a whole lot more. Things that I can't have back. Things that felt so real, I considered them part of my body. You may think that I won, but this doesn't feel like winning to me. This isn't a contest. This is no competition over who gets to be the happiest. I am giving up exactly what you are giving up. Remember that. You probably think I am naiive, confused, delirious, or just plain stupid, but I go to sleep with the same pain as you do.

Nothing is the same. Nothing went back to being normal after that night. Sinking that low really gave a new colour to the world. Things look different, I'm more detached. I feel like I'm acting, like I'm in some shitty satire and I keep having to wake up and go to work and pretend like everything is fine and dandy. I don't want anything anymore. If you think I am asking for attention, all I can do is shake my head. I can't explain myself to you, and I'm not going to try. No one is going to get it.

I had an idea for a painting, which I probably won't turn into a painting. The picture just popped into my head. I'm standing in the middle of a crowd, and all of these arms are projecting out of my body. Each hand holds a piece of me, each body part and fracture of soul has it's own palm to rest. All of these hands are reaching out in offering, and the faces around me are illuminated by fire. Everyone else is holding a flame, and I can see myself being turned to ash, part by part.

I guess it is my fault. I didn't show people who I really was. I pretty much fit around other people, and that made it easier to get along. I felt like I was living an assortment of lives, each with unique personalities. It's exhausting. I can't apologise, who would I apologise to? Everyone? All I can say is that whatever I gave was not intended to represent me. Now there's nothing left to do but start again and try something different. I'm not going to put it all out on the table this time, and when I do decide to give, it will be honest. I don't know if anyone knows who I really am, and that's sad.

"You're a very forgiving person, I wish I had that strength."
"I never saw it as forgiving, I always saw it as naiive."
"You shouldn't. Don't stop forgiving, it's the hardest thing anyone can do. It takes almost-inhuman courage, and the capacity of it often goes unnoticed or unappreciated."
I had this conversation with my dad, and I listened carefully to his advice. He asked me about life, with worry in his voice, and I told him that I was still here. I was still....going forward. He doesn't need to know everything, he just needs to know that I'm here. I could break his heart with the truth, and that's something I can't do.

School is the next step. I've decided to concentrate on music and school, hoping that they will be enough to fill the holes in my 'agenda'. I figured if I focus on inanimate objects instead of people, I'll get a lot further. The loneliness will be hard to deal with, but I'm sure it will become a part of me and eventually I won't even know it's there.

I won't wait anymore.












"It used to be the reason I breathed, but now it's choking me up. (Die young and save yourself)."
-Brand New