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"There has to be that 'special something', an indefinable quality, something I can't put my finger on. Stuff I understand perfectly doesn't interest me. Obviously. It's very simple."
Acknowledged something for the first time today; the real me isn't logical, or emotional-- but instinctive. I've made a functional, logical, emotional version of myself, the one that gets seen and eventually suffocates and stops working. This is the fake me that navigates and walks through the world because that's whats expected, probably the one who "has" normal desires and goals for life too. Suffocating. In reality I don't want any of those things. This world hasn't done anything for me, and I've accepted I don't want to do anything for it either. I don't understand this world and have lived my life until now trying to.
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You never knew anything about me, and I never knew anything about you; at least I was trying. I’m still trying, even though I have no desire to. The fact that I’ll always be trying disgusts me, but that’s the nature of the wound you inflicted. It always had to be about you— there was never room for anyone else. Now you can have all the space you want. When you broke that bottle it wasn’t the glass that hurt. I won’t feel guilty anymore, not in the pure way that you want. That took a while for me to get over. It’ll probably take much longer. Don’t contact me again right when I stopped wanting you to.
I am a creature of duality. I cycle through the beginnings, middles, and ends of ideas before I can birth them into reality. This stresses me out. They come out of me, immediately out of my grasp. I create without the ability to stop, I'm in a constant state of fear.
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