Stupid internet people. Thats what I used to call people who used journals like these to actually express their feelings. Why post something like that for a bunch of strangers to see. Its like slapping you life out their for the public to scrutinize. Its stupid...isnt it?
Of course, its down right retarded. And yet here I am doing it. I realize, its not about people scrutinizing how you feel, its about actually getting it out...somewhere, someplace. Even though I know this will be read, and by many people who will have either no idea what it means, or who simply arent the people meant to read it. Or yet worse, said peoples read and grow bored a few sentences in and shove it aside...I do not blame them, I'd almost suggest that they do. But, my fingers keeping tapping out these letters, and their not going to stop until its all out. I just dont care what happens anymore.
I. Am. A hypocrit. I say one thing and simply do the exact opposite. Like most idiots with a bleeding heart I decided to feel something for someone, and in the end, ended up with a shiv on my heart and a gaping hole where my center used to be. I swore off that type of relationship...and yet, here I am stopping others from doing the same.
No no, you shouldnt do that....but I will. I am alone, and its where I plan to be for a very long time. I believe the lyrics is;
"This is my december
These are my snow covered dreams
This is me pretending
This is all I need"
I am pretending, and I know that. But I've been pretending for good portion of my life, and I firmly believe that if you believe a lie long enough, it will come true. Look, but dont touch. Watch as other share sunshine giggles and glory days, and while shoving down wicked green eyes jealous eyes away. And fighting back the thoughts that haunt the far corners of my mind shouting "Why cant I?", only to get smacked by my better judgement by the half of me that knows no one deserves that kind of torture, not the burden I bring. Least of all whatever kind soul sees it within themselves to try and love a monster. And yet again I smack the beast till it backs into its cage. I sit waiting for the day the sunshine giggles of friends around me fall to tears and I can help them back up and honestly say "I know how you feel...try again." While I refuse to ever try again. I take my station on the very bottom, waiting to help anyone who falls, up. Well, I try to say theres nothing wrong, but inside I felt me lying all along. Today more than other day I felt this twisted combination, both the wicked green eyes of jealousy and the vergiant need to make sure no one else ends up here, where I am.
And no one should. But perhaps its just the nature of man to fight for something and never get it, or fight for it...and it dies. I really dont know...maybe all good things really are meant to just die. And to think, that that realization would come for a source I'd never expect. While there I stood trying to help someone, I was the one being taught...
And thats when the rest of today's epiphany came to me.
I found myself in my life constantly angry with anyone and everyone who tried to have a say in my life. I shunned parents, lovers, friends, everything. And yet I have indeed had a moment of clearity. For all my shunnings, I am a meddler. I meddle in peoples lives for the sole intentions of helping them...or helping someone by meddling. I felt I had expert understanding of certain people, or of people in general and of emotions, I felt I could string together words correctly and thusly turn things in my favor, or again, in the favor of someone I cared about.
And today, I realize something. I am a a fool. My idle chitterings of "advice", advise no one, but really only serve as solace for me in some idiotic quest for redemption. Yes, I've done deeds in my life I am far far far from proud of. I want the belief...the knowledge, no, the ability to stand back on equal par with the rest of the human race as something other than a guilt ridden monster. But thats niether here nor there, its that very quest for redemption that fuels my need for a question for a redemption. I have come to realize, that for every word I say people are only hurt and continue to be hurt. Everytime a friend looks at me for advice and looks hurt I am filled with some stupidity driven desire to...assist. And as the saying says, good intentions pave the road to Hell, and Hell is exactly where I end up flinging them. And for each person I drop I try to lift, and thusly drop again.
And thats where this young genius's words fit perfect. "All good things, are mean to die." And so if all good things are meant to die, and yet all good things worth having are worth fighting for...then I live a lie. Because I will never get what I want most by fighting for it.
Well here is the image of the battle worn hero tossing his sword aside and letting the army charge in around him. Maybe he'll die, maybe he'll be spared..but either way....He's just plain tired of fighting anymore. I realize what I honestly have to do.
And this is why I've chosen to write this, because what I need to do most...is shut the ******** up. But perhaps, just before silencing I can just empty out everything left to be said, and thats what this is. I leave people to their problems, not because I do not care, not because I do not want to help but because I cannot help. I reach out my caring hand and my fingers slit their wrists. If I could feel that for a split second the act of me opening my mouth did something other than make someone laugh, or annoy them perhaps I'd have a reason to open it again. But for now, its been far too long since I properly shut it, and this time I just want to toss away the key. With this I seal away in silence. And I leave this alone to explain why. For those that read it, for the few if any that care. And I mean that as no offense to those that do.
For my last bit of "advice", let me just beg you, dont follow in my footsteps. If I could stop you, whoever so reads this, I would, but I cant. Know that I want no ones pity, no ones sympathy, and no ones attempts at love. This is not an emotional cry for help, its a nessecary final statement of fact. I only and simply want to be sure no one spirals into where I am.
Goodbye. Goodnight.
The rest truly is silence.
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Nocturnius Libris
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