You know me. You understand how I think, or at least I believe you do. Either way, this is probably the only clear view of me there is. And even with this fact, no matter how hard I try, I'm never where I want to be.
I tried to be realistic, tried to keep it in the moment, but visions of grandeur and fantasy often overtook you. I suppose I should have been more like you (considering where I'm left is not where I would like to be) but at the same time, I did it for you. I didn't want to hurt you. Maybe I should have been more forceful, maybe I should have set the line straight. I should have stopped guessing and worrying about the unknown.
They say that when you know someone, when you really really know them, everything is in sync. But everyone has skeletons in their closets and no one is completely truthful. Ashes to ashes, dust to dust, when the end comes how many secrets are left untold?
When you can't see over the hills, when the end is unpredictable, how sure are the decisions made? What if everything done has been in vain? How is hope kept alive and nourished when nothing is given? When wishes wither and dreams fade away, the body becomes a shell and the mind lives no more. Resignation to become a machine, working towards a goal that means and fulfills nothing. The first day of darkness has begun.
Jumping headfirst has never worked. Off the diving board straight down into an empty pool. It's without intelligence and logic, it's ridiculous and stupid. When all is said and done, all that's left in the wake are ruins of long ago. Rebuilding a city brick by brick is all too difficult in it of itself let alone when the storms that decimated the city in the first place come so often. No one is left and no one is coming back. No one new will be entering and that leave but one lone worker hoping all hasn't been in vain. Except, it has.
Waiting for something that will never come is utterly ridiculous and stupid. There is no one here for me and honestly I doubt there will be. I'm so frustrated and jealous and hateful and sad and angry and irritated and helpless. It's almost laughable, really, to see how pathetic I've become. I honestly couldn't ever see myself slumping so low. I hate this. I hate everyone. I hate myself. I will no longer allow myself the privilege of doing what I would like. Only those who have earned it should be allowed to. Only those who are acceptable, beautiful, attention-worthy. I am disgusting, flawed, idiotic. I am unacceptable. I will no longer want. I will no longer give myself the silly hope of possibly being worth something. I have given up and I honestly think this will be the last time I ever give myself even a modicum of worth. I am worthless. I am nothing.
I would love nothing more than to end disappointment. I would want no more than to simply attain a state of happiness without an anchor of regret that should have long since passed. The loneliness that seems to haunt me appears almost unending and yet, somehow, I am able to find rare moments to hope and want when I know all will end in naught but tears. I know better than I would like and because of that there is no place for blame, save myself. And of course it is myself who I blame. The imperfections I dwell upon, the compliments shrugged off, the torture I put myself through. Self-deprecation, punishment, internal conflict, and loathing. All stem from nothing but my own stupidity. I trust and hope and look forward to but end up disillusioned, saddened, and hurt. I am broken. I am without repair. There is more wrong with me than even I know and it is because of these flaws that I seek and crave attention so fiercely. It is, too, because of this that I believe I will never be able to have someone of my very own. Someone who will love me and someone who I myself can love. I fight through night after night seeking a reprieve from all that follows me, yet no matter what I buy, where I go, or what I do, the cloud lingers in my mind.
Just another unknown out of millions letting out everything I can't. I guess here is where everything that I'm so unsure of goes as well as anything I so happen to stumble upon. Just maelstrom of thoughts and emotions, a bit of mindless writing, and a dash of nonsensical feelings.