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my thoughts

I can't believe that what I feel is really happening to me
Make it hurt
And point the finger at my insecurities
Well I guess I just don't understand about those complexities in your mind
And I guess I just don't understand why this world seems so unkind
Maybe just once I get what's coming to me.

**"Maybe Just Once" - Nine Inch Nails**

Saturday, March 05, 2005

There are some times when I think I need you. Late at night when I am supposed to be sleeping but, instead, my mind is wandering and focussing on all the things that are going wrong in my life. I dwell on them. I imagine how they could worsen. I try to come up with ways in which I could make them better, but somehow doing that seems too big and out of my reach. I am afraid of the bad things.

There are some times when I just feel so very small and alone. In the evening when I should be working but, instead, I think about all the due dates coming up and how overwhelmed I feel. How I really should just stay up very very late finishing up my projects and how I just can't seem to force myself to do it anymore. I'm so tired and empty. I am afraid of the results of my procrastination.

There are some times when I feel like a lost soul. I don't know what direction I want my life to take and I don't know where to turn when I hit a many-pronged fork in the road. The afternoons are filled with my daydreams of what I could be ultimately in a perfect world. I know that this world is nowhere remotely close to perfect but, instead, it is imperfect as am I. I am afraid to leave the little corner of my mind. I am afraid of the real world.

There are some times when I know I need you. I miss you. I hate admitting that. I hate knowing that I need someone else. I hate knowing that you're okay without me. I should be doing okay and I should be forgetting you but, instead, the more I try to forget you, the more memories I recall. Everyone else is happy with someone and I... am happy for them. There are things that I (technically) shouldn't have been able to remember that are now coming to me like big-budget motion pictures. I am afraid to tell you.

I think too much. I don't live enough. I should be living this life for me. Yet, it almost seems pointless if I can't tell you anything that's been going on in it. It's so hard for me to go back to hiding and pretending that everything is going just peachy. Every so often, the exhaustion just catches up to me and I cry. I cry for hours without stopping. I can't cry loudly because I have to keep up the ruse for my roommate. She can't know anything is wrong. I have to pretend for her as well. She's already wrapped up in her perfect boyfriend who she loves to flaunt in everyone's face.

Me, I'm just so tired. Before you, I never really realized how tired I was of pretending. It was always second-nature to me. I had been doing it for so long that I barely even noticed anymore. I had gotten so used to never sharing my problems. Instead, I would talk them out to myself in a whispered voice while sitting alone, in the dark, in my room. I would cry for hours then as well. Finally falling asleep when I had nothing left to let out and waking in the morning dehydrated with red puffy eyes that only the miracles of icy cold water and makeup could help conceal.

With you, I remember when I realized I didn't have to pretend anymore. I remember inside the relief I felt. I remember the sheer exaltation and how I felt that my very soul was crying out in pure joy. It was the day you told me that you had known I cut myself. I had never even told you, never even hinted at it. You knew because you had been watching me. You knew because you had seen the scars, no matter how well-faded. You didn't judge me the way so many people had before. You didn't pretend to understand. You didn't request that I stop doing it. You didn't force me to feel that I should talk to you about my problems instead of taking them out on myself. You just let me be me.

That's how it always was. You just let me be me. No matter how stupid some of the things I said were, no matter how childish I could be, no matter how I got on your nerves... you always just let me be me. You gave me something I'd never had before. You spoiled me by letting me be myself. I crave that feeling again. I crave being able to drop all my walls and to relax. I miss the way you made me feel about myself.

It's not just the way you made me feel that makes me miss you. Talking to you was, and still is, one of the most stimulating things I have ever done. Even if I don't agree with anything you say, you still make it interesting. You make me want to research the topic simply so I could argue the other side. You make me want to learn. You make me want to lay beside you on my bed, turn off all the lights and listen to you talk until you are hoarse. I know I interrupt a lot, but it was never because I didn't like listening to you. I just do that sometimes. It's one of my most irritating quirks... When I have a thought, it just bursts out of my mouth and I can't always control it.

I miss how we never had all that much in common. But the things we did have were all the fun things. I miss how you'd still be up for doing stuff at 4 in the morning. I miss how all the things you know about are the things I never knew. I rattle off so much stuff that you've told me now. It makes me laugh sometimes.

Here's something: I tried to write you a song. I know it would never be anything much because I don't know anything about that sort of thing. I tried learning about it, but it was so confusing. I scrapped the song. I look at it sometimes. I hate its simplicity (because I don't know any better). I hate how it would never be as perfect as I'd want it to be. I stopped trying after getting too frustrated. I even started hating the words. They were words I had written a while ago and, at the time, I really liked them. I guess I'll leave songwriting up to the people who are good at that sort of thing.

I've been writing this for over an hour now and my tears have slowed to a trickle. I just want... I don't even know what I want. You probably won't read this anyway (unless I mail the link to you). I was doing so well all week too. I think it's the fact that I'll be getting my period in a couple of days.

I want to delete this entire post. I keep grabbing my mouse and guiding the cursor up to close the browser window. I can't quite do it. I started really writing in this weblog a little over a year ago. I shouldn't stop myself now.

The thing is, I miss you. I can't even begin to explain how much. I need you too. The knowledge of this is killing me. I miss being me. Most of all, I miss being beside you and just talking.

Fuck, I think too much. I don't live enough.

It Had To Be You - Frank Sinatra

Why do I do, just as you say
Why must I just, give you your way
Why do I sigh, why don't I try - to forget

It must have been, that something lovers call fate
Kept me saying: "I have to wait"
I saw them all, just couldn't fall - 'til we met

It had to be you, it had to be you
I wandered around, and finally found - the somebody who
Could make me be true, and could make me be blue
And even be glad, just to be sad - thinking of you

Some others I've seen, might never be mean
Might never be cross, or try to be boss
But they wouldn't do
For nobody else, gave me a thrill
With all your faults, I love you still
It had to be you, wonderful you
It had to be you

*stupid link of the day* the Numa Numa Dance: after such an emotional post, this'll lighten the mood. It's sooo funny! If anyone can find the song from the clip ("Dragostea Din Tea" by O-Zone), could you please send it to me? Thanks! I now have the mp3. If you want it, just ask.
JeN's mind ejaculated @ 9:13 p.m. | | permalink
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