Eyepatch
Nicki called me. I thought she was doing one of those weird catch up with friends from high school after years things that most people seem to enjoy, but which I find nice, but rather unsettling. I don't like to be reminded about sad times, and I am always afraid that the people are going to treat me like other meanie people did back then. Instead she told me Lincoln is dead.
I really wanted to thank him for helping me so much during high school. I probably would have hurt myself (heh) if not for him. I feel guilty that I didn't stay in contact with him after I left high school, even though he was probably my best friend, and he meant a great deal to me. I was frightened that if I did get in touch with him he wouldn't want to talk to me, that he'd reject me. So I didn't call. Pathetic. I feel guilty that I didn't act on the urge I got a month ago to try to contact him. Maybe I could have helped him if I had, maybe I could have talked him out of it.
Maybe, probably not.
I cried for a bit when I first found out, but now I just feel hollow. I feel guilty that I feel hollow, but only in an echo-y, jagged way. Like pissing into a huge barrel.
Sometimes I wonder if I have any real emotions, or if what I feel is just what I am expected to feel, what I tell myself is appropriate to feel. Maybe I am a cardboard vampire after all.
I miss you Lincoln, I'm so sorry I was scared to call you.
At least the Candlemas flowers have come up for tonight.
And there is NO way the cat can get in and steal moloko's food.
Fuck. Cover it up, that's right, shut it all off, off from yourself, off from the poor people who try to help you. Distraction Is The Key To Healing my arse.
I really wanted to thank him for helping me so much during high school. I probably would have hurt myself (heh) if not for him. I feel guilty that I didn't stay in contact with him after I left high school, even though he was probably my best friend, and he meant a great deal to me. I was frightened that if I did get in touch with him he wouldn't want to talk to me, that he'd reject me. So I didn't call. Pathetic. I feel guilty that I didn't act on the urge I got a month ago to try to contact him. Maybe I could have helped him if I had, maybe I could have talked him out of it.
Maybe, probably not.
I cried for a bit when I first found out, but now I just feel hollow. I feel guilty that I feel hollow, but only in an echo-y, jagged way. Like pissing into a huge barrel.
Sometimes I wonder if I have any real emotions, or if what I feel is just what I am expected to feel, what I tell myself is appropriate to feel. Maybe I am a cardboard vampire after all.
I miss you Lincoln, I'm so sorry I was scared to call you.
At least the Candlemas flowers have come up for tonight.
And there is NO way the cat can get in and steal moloko's food.
Fuck. Cover it up, that's right, shut it all off, off from yourself, off from the poor people who try to help you. Distraction Is The Key To Healing my arse.