(no subject)
You see, I'm not very patient. I'm not very tolerant, I don't like to be kept waiting for a point. If there is something to be solved then I want the question now so an analysis can begin-- the poetry is rather simple. And that's usually the best thing about the friendships I have; my friends, you beautiful people-- you know that I'm busy, that I don't deal very well with hysterics unless there's good reason, that if you want help then I'm there, I'll do almost anything you want if I deem that you deserve it. I can pass through hours of babble and chatter, providing that there is a basis to what is being said-- and that one actually listens to what the other is saying. For example, if one has a problem and want help-- then one should confide in a friend, get all the emotions they can possibly release out-- and then take steps forward in ascertaining help. And usually, this involves listening to advice given, and steps taken to try and start to help oneself if in it's one's best interests.
And so what does one do then if this friend is refuses help? Despite constant pleas to help themselves time and time again, over this, that and the other? This is where impatience factors in. I've been called heartless and cruel which is relatively irrelevant, though I think those words may been brought to the person I'm talking to. But I'm really starting to not care. You know when the indifference started to settle in? When you thought that I'd hate you for coming to me with a problem, despite knowing how I am, despite knowing that I hate it when you come to conclusions with no logical basis to them whatsoever. It's not that we've never been through this before because we have, because I've been through this with you time and time again. And so, I'll give you what you keep stating-- I hate you. Does that satisfy? You thought so low of me before without any reason to; now, I'm giving you the reason. You can turn this all back on me, and I care not. Let me add some comments to upset you. Make you angry. Make you wish you never came to me. Throw yourself into oblivion, I dare you. You know the path, take it. Let me pack a picnic lunch you can purge along the way. Is that sufficient do you think? Send me a message saying that what I did was cruel-- or will you beg for forgiveness? I'm curious; which one do you think is more contemptible, m'dear? And which one will you choose?
You think this is the path is being in control? I've told you for the past year what you needed to do and you haven't moved one step towards freedom. This isn't freedom, this isn't control, you've chosen the easiest path, in the easiest manner; and you're suffering for it now. Was I meant to hold your hand and encourage you? Was I meant to cry and hold you, pick you up everytime you had a weak moment? You keep reaching out for help and throwing it back in our faces-- what about the doctor? You managed to delude the doctor into thinking your fine-- well congrats, it doesn't take an expert to know that your problem doesn't lie within any real noticeable physical attributes-- not yet. Well done. Was the doctor meant to be psychic and know just from looking at you how deluded you are? I wonder... are you crying yet? Are you going to do something stupid to make yourself feel better, or perhaps you'll refrain this once just to spite me? You reached out to me and now I've turned my back on you-- what are you going to do about it? Even more interestingly; are you going to tell me about it? You know how people will slash themselves and then wear a top with sleeves just short enough to expose the scars... will you do something along those lines? And more so; do you think I'll feel guilty if you do?
Imagine what I've done-- I could have sent this to you in an email, or spoken to you about this in person; but instead I chose livejournal, I chose to make this public, all these people could see if they wished. Did you know others in the group frequent our journals as well? And that it wouldn't be too difficult to figure out who it is anyway? What are you going to do-- keep running away? I'll read everything that you say about it, I'll share the pain that you're going through alone-- because that is what you chose. You decided that I hated you; that was your choice. That had no reasoned logic for it. Now, I've given you a reason to hate me. This isn't what you wanted, but it's what you asked for.
And so what does one do then if this friend is refuses help? Despite constant pleas to help themselves time and time again, over this, that and the other? This is where impatience factors in. I've been called heartless and cruel which is relatively irrelevant, though I think those words may been brought to the person I'm talking to. But I'm really starting to not care. You know when the indifference started to settle in? When you thought that I'd hate you for coming to me with a problem, despite knowing how I am, despite knowing that I hate it when you come to conclusions with no logical basis to them whatsoever. It's not that we've never been through this before because we have, because I've been through this with you time and time again. And so, I'll give you what you keep stating-- I hate you. Does that satisfy? You thought so low of me before without any reason to; now, I'm giving you the reason. You can turn this all back on me, and I care not. Let me add some comments to upset you. Make you angry. Make you wish you never came to me. Throw yourself into oblivion, I dare you. You know the path, take it. Let me pack a picnic lunch you can purge along the way. Is that sufficient do you think? Send me a message saying that what I did was cruel-- or will you beg for forgiveness? I'm curious; which one do you think is more contemptible, m'dear? And which one will you choose?
You think this is the path is being in control? I've told you for the past year what you needed to do and you haven't moved one step towards freedom. This isn't freedom, this isn't control, you've chosen the easiest path, in the easiest manner; and you're suffering for it now. Was I meant to hold your hand and encourage you? Was I meant to cry and hold you, pick you up everytime you had a weak moment? You keep reaching out for help and throwing it back in our faces-- what about the doctor? You managed to delude the doctor into thinking your fine-- well congrats, it doesn't take an expert to know that your problem doesn't lie within any real noticeable physical attributes-- not yet. Well done. Was the doctor meant to be psychic and know just from looking at you how deluded you are? I wonder... are you crying yet? Are you going to do something stupid to make yourself feel better, or perhaps you'll refrain this once just to spite me? You reached out to me and now I've turned my back on you-- what are you going to do about it? Even more interestingly; are you going to tell me about it? You know how people will slash themselves and then wear a top with sleeves just short enough to expose the scars... will you do something along those lines? And more so; do you think I'll feel guilty if you do?
Imagine what I've done-- I could have sent this to you in an email, or spoken to you about this in person; but instead I chose livejournal, I chose to make this public, all these people could see if they wished. Did you know others in the group frequent our journals as well? And that it wouldn't be too difficult to figure out who it is anyway? What are you going to do-- keep running away? I'll read everything that you say about it, I'll share the pain that you're going through alone-- because that is what you chose. You decided that I hated you; that was your choice. That had no reasoned logic for it. Now, I've given you a reason to hate me. This isn't what you wanted, but it's what you asked for.