untitled

The parts that make everything so complicated are all the hard and soft feelings involved; it's so touch-and-go because so much is at stake. Re-evaluating, ruminating, it's all so I can make shit easier to deal with. It's hard to remain magnanimous and so candid when all I want is to end a conversation as the victor. However, it's not a battle of words or guilt trips. The embitterment you sense is not directed towards you at all, but at myself. I never wanted to point fingers and blame you for my actions, but I think that is how I am coming across. Because of your resolve, you did the right thing and pissed me off. You fucking pissed me off so much more than I have ever been in my entire life.

My mom asked me why I was crying, and I actually felt a flashback. She used the same words she used when I was in sixth grade, then in tenth grade: "Were mean words said?"

Mean words were said, and I never felt worse in my entire life. I have dealt so much in high school with feelings and ways of getting my emotions across. What saddens me the most is that all that hard work, all those hours sitting in an empty room with a man who really didn't care about me at all, were useless. You can't pay a therapist any amount of money to teach you to love, trust, and befriend.

I thought about what I was going to say, I said it, and I regretted it, because I didn't get the reaction I was expecting. I have to deal with how I feel about myself. I AM NOT blaming you for the way I feel. My morose stems from the fact that I am not who I want to be. Within the past month and a half, two people have told me that I am wrong, and that I don't know who I am. Everything I thought I was passionate for isn't sound enough to stand unrestrained. I got angry at him; I got angry at her; I am angry at myself.

This drama within myself is hurting people. "There will always be hurt somewhere." I am repentant and conscience-stricken.

[March 28, 2005]