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.