8/4/09

I want a world that doesn’t exist. At least not for me. I want all my mistakes to not have been made. I want the people ive loved to love me and those that I didn’t love to not love me. Then again, I only want what I cant have. I only love who doesn’t love me. And this is why I will probably never be completely happy. Sure, I’m happy sometimes, fleeting moments in which im smiling and my heart makes that little aching feeling that tricks me into thinking this is it. But those moments are usually followed up by regret, or loss, or shame. Those feelings don’t usually lead anywhere good in the long run.

So what is it then? Why am I doomed to be self destructive? Why to I systematically ruin everything that starts out with me smiling? Well for one thing I already explained what that smile leads to. But other than that I don’t know. Sometimes I catch myself living my life through movies and tv shows. Its like the people in them are capable of feeling things and experiencing things I would never know unless they had been written in a script and filmed. The saddest part is that the movies and the tv shows probably show me happier things than anything I could ever experience on my own. Sure ive felt the love of someone that I loved. I mean from the random memories I let myself keep I remember feeling things I cant recreate for myself. Like when he would hold me under his arm and look down at me like I was some puzzle that he was trying to figure out and then kiss me. His kisses were so rare, especially the ones that he really meant. Maybe that’s what im holding out for, trying to get him to kiss me like he means it.

If the right song hits me, I can feel all full of hope, like theres nothing in the world I want more than just to be with him for the rest of my life. Make my life with him, how could I even imagine anything else? And the truth is that I cant. And I don’t want to. Even when I remember what it was really like in those past few months. Even when I look down at my thighs and remember how inferior I feel to all of my competition. But that’s just what I do. I set myself up to be crushed and dragged about in this fiery little pit that I call my life. I really don’t even see the point of living sometimes. Not that I would ever off myself. Suicide is so selfish and messy. But I just don’t have that survival instinct when it comes to having a broken heart for almost a year. It really has been a year since the I love yous got less frequent, when I ripped my phone into pieces, when everything got so bad I knew it wouldn’t get better but I stayed anyway. If only I were 20 again, that little skinny thing that had fun all the time, hated herself just as much, but hadn’t destroyed the love of her life.

So here I am. Writing like I said I should, and would. All of this time ive been spending alone lately, it only makes sense, might as well put my thoughts into some sort of concrete thing I can pull back out of my hard drive. At least this way I might remember something that’s happened to me. Ive forgotten so many things I cant even hate myself as much as I should!

So this is how it begins. I need a hobby, one that nobody in their right mind would pay attention to, and one that I don’t have to tell anybody. I don’t have to lie because theres nobody to lie to. I don’t have to censor because I don’t have to say who I am. Not that I would anyway. So here goes my open babble of my unwinding life. Maybe it will make me feel less crazy to get this shit out of my head for a minute, or maybe just more lonely because nobody will read it except for me. In the end do I really care? I cant live life without trying what pops into my head as a good idea.