You've been through hell these past couple of days. Something so unimaginable and unthinkable that I wouldn't even know to relate. I'm here though. Anything you need, anything you want, I'm here, and I need you to know that. Though it's highly unlikely you know this little site exists, but well, I hope my text messages show that.
I always thought death was fascinating. How everything in our body just fails, and with that, we're gone. Gone to a place no one of living existence knows. With the exceptions of the few kooks out there claiming there great knowledge of the afterlife, I'm pretty sure the mystery of life after death remains a questionable issue to many. Is there life after death? Or do we just disappear completely. I'm starting to re-evaluate my beliefs. Though it's been a long time coming now, slowly changing from mere thoughts to more substantial and strong-opinionated beliefs. I've come up with something, and it might sound completely absurd, but well, my mind is mine, and with that comes my right to believe in whatever I choose is right. We come from nothing, entering the world brand new, and as we leave, we go back to nothing.
But with so much fascination, nothing really prepares you for it, or news of it, and your loss just gets to me. I don't know him, but I know you, and I know how much love you have for him, so knowing that you're in pain, well, it kills me.
It's really at times where you need the most consoling that you see how genuine people can be. I've made a mistake again. I threw all my issues out the door for the past couple of months, slowly devouring the joy that has come my way, letting it fill me inside with warmth, so that I could rid myself of the more painful memories. And that joy, the thing that allowed me to be more communicable with others again, it kept me going on and on. Till recently, that is. In fact, till Thursday night, after hearing news of your loss. It put me in a tough situation – not knowing what to say or do, to make you feel better. And in that moment, I needed someone to console me. Someone to tell me what to do or what to say, and in that moment I realized how all that joy I felt and all that 'new-found friendship' I got myself into, was, and without trying to sound distasteful, because let's face it, spewing all my rage to the world wide web hasn't done me good in the past, a pile of stinky poo poo. Yes, stinky poo poo
Yes, in the past I based all my issues on the matter of trust, but I've realized it's more of the authenticity of one's character actually. People come running to me – asking me about my life – only to squeeze out some story they can use to twist and turn, producing a much more juicy story to share to the rest of the world. And I guess that's where the trust comes in place, because my horrid need to feel a sense of love has caused this uncontrollable need to confess my life story to any Tom, Dick and Harry that decides to show the slightest bit of attention to me – the self-loathed old soul of a human being. And with that trust, the stories keep coming and then one day I wake up to news of horrid proportions, and everyone around me disappears. With my stories they run away, and those stories, those tiny parts that have built me to what I am this very day, go along with their fleeting ways, leaving me standing there like some old tattered book – principal pages of my sappy life all torn away and missing, turning my 'novel' of a life into something so unreadable. And with that, I have to start over from scratch.
With your loss comes my clueless ways of comfort and urgent need of advice, but alas, everyone's gone and again I'm left looking like the fool I am. A week has passed with so much disappointment and distractions. With that, I have two weeks left till my tests start and then I go back to the days where all I see are faces that I want to smash into a wall and voices I want to mute to a deafening silence. No, don't tell me you feel the same way I feel. No, don't tell me you know what I'm talking about. No, don't do that. None of you have the right, because that's all I hear all day long – 'I know what you mean', 'I can't trust anyone either' 'blah blah blah'. Because all of you tell me this, making me feel like I have someone I can relate to, only to have me see you faking it up with your smiles and joyous conversations with everyone else in the most hypocritically disgusting manner. It disgusts me at how fake you all are. At least I have the decency to say what I feel and stick to it. And yes I agree that pretending to like someone doesn't make you fake but just the better person, but there's a limit to how 'nice' you can be and say what you say behind their backs.
College in Australia? I'm heavily considering this, and in this state of mind, what with all the angst that's building up inside me, I'm leaning towards the when-can-I-pack-my-bags-and-get-the-hell-out-of-here side. Living alone in a foreign place? Yes I might be homesick a little and I will miss my family no doubt, but I need this. I need the getaway and the experience and I need some honest joy in my life. The tears and the heartache and the pain is consuming every inch of me and it weighs me down.
