November 21, 2002
it's like this. i try my hardest to be normal because i believe you are what you say you are. and so i say i'm fine, over and over again till i am fine. i don't tell you every day that my life is fucked up or whine that i don't have a life cos after a while, it's only going to get to you, and that isn't going to do either of us any good. besides, the whole becomes rather trite atfter some time. as a result of my ibelieveyouarewhatyousayyouare theory, i'm not suicidal. i don't want to be suicidal, in fact, i'm afraid of death. i want to live life stuck in a moment with colours swirling around my head forever and ever, with a lap under my head. and a hand stroking my forehead. forever. it's all i want, and when you know what you want, it's a lot easier to put what you don't want aside and be happy. the ugly side shows it's ugly face every now and then [everytime] but i'm learning to conquer it. still learning, always learning. i am both, normal - and - otherwisely. but you don't know that other side yet. you'll never know. it'll never show. you see the normal me, most times, with the occasional pimple of a depressive me showing. but i have a good remedy for those. or maybe not so good. but good enough. just because i'm not suicidal or manic-depressive or whatever you may think of me as the normal, the non-brilliant. anything;
i don't care. this is how i want to live my life. i want to be happy. i never thought you were interfering, in any way. but we're obviously on different frequencies. you think you have problems which no one else has. i am fed up because you don't realise it. or you do, but still act like that. i don't deserve a friend like you. a friend who's always there when i needed one. or thought i had a friend, cos you didn't do it for kicks. you did it cos you expected me to repay you. i think. that's what you made it seem like. i can't pay you back. i don't know how. i must have said enough. i'm running out of points to make. i still can't get to you. i can't make you see my way. we're different, right. i'm tired and i want to cry. but i won't cos i know how not to. i'm sorry if i wasn't as good a friend as you were to me- i can only try, and i tried. i failed. i chose to live my life this way. but all this while i thought i had accommodated you adequately. apparently, i hadn't. you can be mad at me for all your worth, i will do nothing to you. my worries are mine alone and if i ever bothered you with them i am so damn sorry. i never meant to bother. i thought it as sharing, dear. cos you knew how to help. and you did help. choose your friends more wisely the next time. get the brilliant ones. they're always depressed. they'll know what you're going on about. they'll help you. not me. i can't.
pardon me while i live my life. maybe i'll be waiting for you. may be.
4:19 AM
