Back Again

Dec 14, 2003 21:23

I know, I was just leaving. I'm dead tired and I hate life and all that's involved with it and I kin of feel like writing to share my shitty feelings with the rest of society. I feel like I'm always hiding who I am, what I feel. I feel like so many people who think they're my friends don't even know me. That's partly my fault, I guess, for shutting them out. It's just become so second nature that now I don't know how to live any other way. God I hate it! I hate the why and the tedium and the uselessness of it all. I hate tomorrow even more than I hate today. All I can think about are regrets.
I can think about a time, about two years ago, when I hurt someone-- even without meaning to. To that person: you know who you are. Even though we may not be on the best of terms now, I'm sorry for how it happened and I'm sorry I was so stupid as to let it happen that way. I should have known better, but I guess I wasn't as mature as I thought I was. I just wanted to you to know, if you ever read this, that I wish things had been different and I wish you only the best of happiness in the future.

Why did Mimi knock on Roger's door? And Collins choose that phone booth back where Angel set up his drums? Why did Maureen's equipment break down? Why am I the witness? And when I capture it on film, does it mean that it's the end and I'm alone?

I think it does. I'm more like Marc than I'd like to admit. I watch and I'm never willing to take the chances. God Damn It.
You'd think it was past midnight by the way I'm writing. What's the difference really? No one's going to read it.

nostalgic, antsy, depressed, daydream believer, lonely, friends, stressed

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