I told you this would hurt.
For those who know me and have somehow stayed on as friends… congratulations. You’ve managed a feat of pure and undulated will power most would give their left nut for. Everyone else? Start running while you can.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Writing has never been a tremendous strength of mine. I just don’t possess the author ‘spirit’.
Or at least that’s what they tell me...
But sometimes there comes a point when you just can’t keep twiddling your thumbs anymore while staring a blank word pad… watching that evil little cursor blink at you tauntingly. Beckoning you to do something monumentally stupid.
And eventually you really do have to do something. You have to fill that horrifyingly empty expanse of white nothingness with the words and truths you just can’t keep inside anymore.
You have to prove the damn cursor right.
And that’s why I’m stuck on this journal page bothering you nice people. So, yeah, forgive me and my boorish ways… but I just have to get this crap out or I’m going to explode. *Takes a deep breath.*
Let’s get this show on the road…
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I’d like to say I’ve lived my life without lies or deceits. That all my close companions know the real me and have seen how far down my special little Rabbit Hole goes… But if I truly believed that, I’d be loonier than every god damned psycho currently occupying the nuthouses of America.
I lie. A lot. There isn’t a single thing about me that I haven’t twisted or made up. Not a thing. I grew so tired of having nothing… of seeing all those pitying eyes… that I decided to create a ’Me’ people would enjoy being with. Someone loving, caring, surrounded by friends and happy family members. Someone another human being could actually stand to be with.
But the truth isn’t so lovely. I’m a rather mean person, really. I’m the kind that smiles and seems like such a Godsend as they hold your hand through the Hells of life… when I’m really wishing you’d buck up and deal with it.
Evil, isn’t it? But, to my horror, there are more and more times when I really do mean what I say. That the feelings I show you are real and I’m not 100% a monster. Only my two friends, my mother, my father, my step-father, James and Don can really boast that I care about them. That I’d let myself be hurt over and over and over just so they’ll smile at me and never get a glimpse of the other lying in wait. Lurking.
Tasha and… well… I’m sure he’d dislike it greatly if I ever named him on here (Lord knows I’ve broken so many other rules), are my closest acquaintances.
The first of these, Tasha, is my latest ‘best’ friend. Over the years I seem to acquire one person in which to confide in as well as get my fix of companionship. But after a while, usually a year or so after meeting me, they leave.
Whether by some imagined slight done by my hands or the fact someone better than me steals them away (bastards).
Tasha is it right now. And this time I hope I don’t botch things up.
It’s why I’m so nervous when she’s around. I actually WANT to tell her everything. Which is scary on it’s own, because I know that when I do… she’ll either hate me forever, or be so uncomfortable she wont to talk to me again. Either outcome sucks.
The other individual is… wow. I really don’t have words for this one. He’s someone I managed to fall in love with. Though it’s a really strange kind of love. I’d give any one of my organs and promise him the world if it meant he’d love me back.
And I guess he does, in a way.
But I know it isn’t the same. Our different branches and brands of love aren’t completely equal. Because, though I’d let him cut me open from navel to throat should he ever feel the whimsical need to, I often hurt him out of selfishness.
At least I think it’s selfishness…
Is it bad that I wish for him to be happy, not only so that he himself can feel better, but because it’s taxing on me to constantly be the ‘calm seas’ in which he wades whenever the rest of the world is consumed in hurricanes?
If I could… I’d be that for him until the end of time. But I just can’t. I love him. I’m in love with him. But I NEED the same kind of love in return to truly function and be happy.
I want to let go and be swept away by someone who doesn’t mind I come with extra baggage. That I’m broken.
I NEED to let go of all my controls and feel like I’m being held up. Even just for a little while. Because God knows I don’t mind holding someone else up. I just need a break… just a little one.
Which brings me to confession number one. The first, foremost and biggest lie that will lose me most of my friends forever…
I’m alone.
Mike. Mikah. Nathaniel. Tabitha. Tobias. Melissa. Neil. Jake. Richard… and anyone related to them…
Are all imaginary.
Not real.
Fake.
Made up.
I’m alone and always have been. There are no friends outside of school in which my life has been shaped by, or memories made from. There is no one and there never will be. Not even a boyfriend.
I lied.
I made them up so that those who WERE real would stop fretting over my horrible skills in making friends, not realize how lonely I was and think everything was hunky dory.
And it worked.
It even helped my own self esteem issues for a bit. Because, even if they were imaginary, for a while I could pretend I felt loved and needed by someone or something. That I truly mattered.
It was like trying to bottle up and wrap around myself the kind of love devout Christians speak of when they say they ‘felt the touch of God.’
But one thing about lies… is that they grow. Once uttered they cannot be taken back. Not without sacrificing a part of yourself to another’s hate and criticism. To admit you aren’t who you said you where and that the real you isn’t so shiny and brand new.
To be open to attack.
It was a sacrifice I wasn’t able to make until now. Because, for once, I don’t care anymore. Let the rain come, I’m ready for it.
And now I’m going to shut my trap and start another entry. This one’s too darn long for any more confessions.