i really badly want to talk to you, but i want it to be at a different time in our interactions, like maybe six months ago or so. and i want it to be cara a cara. i feel like i have exhausted W, he's my new confidante. i am really sad.
actually this is the saddest i can recall being, but recollections are shoddy and unreliable. i can't even fathom why i have the impulse to turn to you. actually a friend worded your personality very pithily, albeit harshly: that you are an aggressive coward. i felt like laughing insanely. i think i did
what goes on is that i am sad about mr. a very significant other's mother, even though i don't quite believe it yet. then i feel guilty, like an interloper, when i think that mr. must be a whole heck of a lot sadder than i am. she held a portion of my soul, though, and our last interaction was a brief exchange to put off tales of wonderful journeys to a later date, when we could sit down together and chat. and that's NEVER. but is it my place to grieve? then i feel bad that mr. seems incapable of talking to me or calling me back, though he can talk to O; et al. did i do something wrong? how can i ease his pain... as i share the opinion [that he actually gave me] that it is our mutual responsibility to do so? is he the type best left alone for a while, or does he need me to break down the door and hold his hands in my hands? shouldn't i know this? actually i need some intricate combination of the two, so maybe it is not quite that simple. maybe writing is excrement!!!!!! Ohhhh burn. it keeps raining so that the world won’t catch fire
i am trapped in this place called R, and all i can do is write everywhere, on everything, propagating insanity to quench my insatiable fury at... what? life?
every time someone calls me i find an excuse to hang up the phone, despite the fact that i need to talk so painfully much
i am actually usually not insane, just when sad things happen i try to act like my mother, fail miserably, write shit, cry for hours, scream, write more shit, break things, write shit, act like nothing is the matter! i am fine! LOOK AT ME I'M GIGGLING as if that weren't the scariest thing anyone could do even when they weren’t about to simultaneously explode and implode
i always dump the confounding contents of my heart into an ungraceful e-mail to you, to which you seldom respond. so see, you probably will not see it here, on my ungraceful blog of english class. therefore i am breaking the cycle, being responsible, not wetting the bed.
p.s. are we friends? do i care? am i cold, heartless? overly-emotional?
WHAT IS DEATH?
is there anything i can do?