| Noose... |
Here I am, presented with a white box to spill everything I have inside of me. Anything I could ever feel like discussing, I can discuss here. No one argues, no one runs away. This is mine alone, and still, I can never seem to write everything I want to write. Something holds me back. And I think I figured out what that something is. Everything I have to say would eventually end up hurting someone. Why is it that out of everything I can fill my head with, the only things my voice ever seems to carry are the things that make others hurt, or cry, or hide themselves away?
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I am not a happy boy. I can't remember the last time I truly was happy. I don't know if I ever have been even. I can remember smiling to make other people happy, but I don't think I have ever smiled for no particular reason. I wonder if I ever will be happy...
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I am going back to my family soon. I don't really know how to feel about it. I am not sure I ever want to go back. I realize they are my family and I should want them around, but I really don't. I think my life would be so much easier if I never had to connect to anyone else. I don't like the bonds that people form because somehow I always end up breaking them. I don't think I was meant to be a social creature. I don't think I was meant to be...
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When all is well and good again
The sun is in my eye
When all is where it should have been
It's time for me to die
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I keep feeling like crying, but everytime that feeling comes it always ends up turning into anger. I can't help it. I guess I am just an angry person. I have things in my head that I really need to work out. The only problem is that I don't know which things are problems and which things are alright. I can't tell the difference.
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Today someone asked me what I would have if I could have anything in the world. If I could do anything, what would it be. I couldn't answer her; she was too happy today.
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(A chance to start over...)
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Dear Diary,
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I think I am a special case...