23.4.2000

I read shit about loneliness and I can't remember what I decided years ago. Because I decided somehing. Some realization I can't remember anymore. And it's like all hope faded. If I lose that I thought I knew what do I have left then?
There was one day, so long ago it seems, when I knew I couldn't ever love anyone. Not truly love, not like they said it would feel like. And I can't remember what I felt like then. I can't remember how I grew into being… disabled, how I learnt to live this life without slipping too much, too often. If I knew an easy way, I'd tell them. But the only way I have is through tears and memories of pain. And that path I want no one else ever to walk on. I just don't know how to help them pass it, how to help them avoid it.
I don't know how to comfort because I know how powerless words can sometimes be. And I have no way of bearing their crosses, not even if I wanted to. And wanting to do so won't help them. I'm not obliged, I'm not a martyr, I'm not willing to be. But it hurts more to see others go through that pain than go through it myself. Because the pain brings a certain kind of numbness, not caring. I don't care about life then, I don't care about others. Now I do. And I don't wish to weep over others. It's pure selfishness, yes. I admit that because it is so. But every human is selfish, we have to be in order to survive. The first instinct is the one of protecting oneself and continuing of the species. Then come the others. A mother protects her child, putting her own life at risk because it's built up inside us. We all inherited it, except maybe the ones who are 'faulty'. Without that instinct, we'd all have died long ago.
Unfortunately I can't tell right now, if it had been better that way. Sometimes I think so.

Sometimes I feel so old. I watch all the people and only later realize they are my age. And I thought they were lightyears younger. I'm not implying that I think I'm more mature, more… something than they are, but that they seem so young at heart. That is both a very good thing and a very bad thing at the same time. We all have different sides. There's different realities to all of us. The relativity of things.
Oh, I almost hate that sentence! It's like a curse in my ears. I can't stand it. The pain it has caused. How I yearn to be ignorant, how I year to believe blindly, hate blindly! No, I don't want to think of other's point of view, I don't want to consider it. I don't want to have such a weight to carry. I don't want to consider, to re-consider and re-consider again. I want to be care-free, young, foolish. I'm tired of decisions, I'm tired of justice, I'm tired of compassion!
I want to… be young again. Be healthy, okay. Normal. I want to talk about normal and not know how wrong that word is, how much pain it causes and has caused. I want words that don't have meaning that could be interpreted wrong, I want a world that doesn't hurt. I want justice and I want freedom and I want love and everything that's 'normal'. I want to forget everything and never see anything again.
My brain's breaking apart and I can't handle it. I want something I can never have. We all do. We dream of a better life. And if we had the life we dreamt of, we'd soon be bored, dissatisfied. We'd rebel against the rules and the freedom and we'd have nothing to fight for. Although some of us don't have anything to fight for even now. Some of us don't have the will to fight for anything. I know I don't. They call it depression or laziness, depending on the point of view. The utter lack of purpose.

I'd like to be willing to change the world. I'd like to have a purpose. But everything that I can think of is that in a billion years me and everyone else who existed on this planet will be gone and forgotten. And it doesn't matter what they fuck they did, what they believed in, who they loved. It's useless, it's already gone before we notice. I was dying before I was born. And it literally is so. My cells were already disappearing then. And it's so useless. It doesn't mean anything, nothing means anything. That's why I can't write a comforting e-mail saying it'll be alright because all that I'd mean by that is that it'll pass, we'll die and in a million years no one thinks of us. And I can't write that. I'd probably make them kill themselves and although that doesn't really mean anything in a billion years, it'd hurt me a while every now and then. The act of selfishness. And the problem is that I'd really want to help, for purely selfish reasons again (making people feel better makes me hurt less because of them, that's the selfish part).
Everything I have to say is 'it's alright, it'll pass'. I can't hug a computer, you know. I feel like doing that sometimes. I try but I can't. It's too angular, too cold and plastic. Because my own computer screen is everything I can touch of those people, and it's the only thing I can touch. They're a million miles away. And I wish I could do something. Anything. Because I'm a sappy person like that. And because I hate myself too much to not to try to help someone.

And because I really do care. For a moment, perhaps longer, I really do care.

Index.