|
**Author's Note: This one was mainly for my own purposes, but hey, I can't hide things from you, now can I? I wonder how long you have to know somone before you really know that person. How well do you have to know their mannerisms, their attitude, their reaction to their environment before you understand them? I'm seeing sides of people that I didn't know existed and I don't think i particularly like. I wish I could not see those sides. If I could block them from my view, maybe I could honsetly like people. Maybe I could fully trust people. I suppose that's why I like cigarettes so much. I know them, I understand them. I know the good side and god knows that I'm seen the bad. They will never make me hurt, they will never show me sides I dislike, they will never leave me alone. I feel barren. Like I'm looking for myself in a sea of faces that are barely distinguishable. And the only thing making my face different from the ones around me are the tears, the same tears I can't physically cry. Sometimes, in this shit world, you need a friendly shoulder to bury your face, hide and keep you safe from what hurts. I don't have that. So I hide my face in my sleeve, but it doesn't work and I feel more alone because I'm surrounded by people who have the only thing that's not accesible to me; human relationship, companionship, a love that goes deeper than the surface and cuts right into the soul. A tear falls and drips onto my sleeve, the sleeve that hides me from what hurts. . .
Alone again, late at night, pondering the concepts of friendship, love, and what it means to be alive. I've blood and I've organs, but do organs and blood make life? And, if so, what kind of existence is that? I enjoy discussing things with people who are capable of thinking at my level. But those conversations come so few and far between that when I get to have them, I cherish them. I get so sick of being treated as a child, of being thought of as nothing more than a number, that when someone comes into my life who treats me respectfully, I don't know how to handle it. I miss feeling loved. That feeling alone gets old so fast that I try to replace love with other things, such as money and cigarettes. Both are incredibly evil. Sometimes I think I don't ever want to feel love again. Mainly cause the times I've felt it, I also felt it leave. And loosing something that precious is tragic. It's also a tragedy to know something better than this exists and not being able to live in a constant state of conscious bliss. I'm so terrified that I'll never find someone to be content with, to find her faults, to not mind them, to actually love her more with all of the wrongs than without. I suppose, I'm just too much of a dreamer in a reality-based world.
It's the night before my skip day. It seems odd that some silly day off of school holds such intrigue for me. I keep waiting for someone to put me together correctly. Make me feel like a complete product, not like a recalled, malfunctioned, defective person. I try to put myself together, but I don't think that's possible anymore. What I do think is that we are all looking for someone to fill in the missing parts. As cliche as this sounds, to complete us. Someone to look past everything that is beautiful about us. Someone to throw that aside, till we are nothing but an ugly, disgusting person and yet, somehow, in all of that filth, find beauty.
|
