(because I'm not Tired)

2001-10-10

So the story goes. There's an end, there's a beginning, and there are some climaxes during the show.

1. Exposition. 2. Complications (foreshadowing). 3. Climax (epiphany). 4. Resolution. 5. Closure (aperture).

So. What do you do then? Write another book? A life is a book is a life.

(I need to die.)

"Waking up and getting up has never been easy. You should know."

I remember you. Even if you don't remember me. I have lots of papers left. I never read them anymore, but I feel better knowing they exist. I'm very tired, can't you see? I'm tired of all this shit that happens to be my life. I'm tired of waking up, never wanting to go anywhere, and knowing that I have to get up, and do stuff and I just... I'd like it if all of it just feel apart, there was a WWIII and everything was destroyed. Because. Because I don't want to deal, and I can't handle this. Oh, yes, there are small pleasures in my life, too. There are things I sometimes actually enjoy. But the rest of it. The everything. I don't look back and think that it was better then, because I know it wasn't. And I can't look at the future and think it could be better then because it isn't going to be. Forgive me for my subjectivity, but I'm just too tired to try. I've tried all my life. I've tried, and I've survived and I didn't want that. I hoped it all would be painless and quick and soon I would cease to exist, and it would suddenly somehow, magically, go away and everything would be just fine. Somehow. Dying has never been easy, has it?

Living neither. And you know that. And still you don't want me to give up. You still want me here, because... well, why? Because I'm something you own, is that it? Something that's yours, not mine. Like my life wasn't mine anymore. And perhaps it isn't, and perhaps it never was.

But, you know. You did a lot of things that make me hate you (still today). Am I supposed to forgive you? Am I supposed to forget, like you did? How can you forget? I never quite grasped that. I never realized. And I think of everything that happened and I just don't know how you can forget something like that. Because I can't. Does it make me a bad person? Does it really?

And it isn't just the past anymore. It never is 'just' the past. It's how I live. It's what I am.

"It's a sign of devotion
you made everyobody else seem insane
you filled my head with your notions
you made everybody else seem a shame
in your bed I lay reeling
you made everybody else seem so tame
I knew from the way I was feeling
nothing could ever be quite the same"

And you know what? I think I hate you as much as I hate myself. And that's a lot. Am I just supposed to forget that? (I suppose so, yeah.)