I just wanted to tell someone that.
But in the end, by typing it up here I am shouting it to the abyss. With the knowledge that no one will read it. No one will wonder why. I am shouting it into the abyss with the complete knowledge that anything that comes back will only be an echo.
I just can't do it any more. I just can't.
I don't want to be me any more.
And I say all of this shit, secure in the knowledge that I will never hurt myself. Ever. I will never wreck the illusion of being happy. I want people to see me and think well, she is happy.
But I am not.
I am just another helpless soul, with no meaning, no desires above the insignificant, and with nothing to diffrentiate from the person haunched in their shell of a body next door. Or next door to that.
I am just another.
And I wanted my whole life to be someone, something, somewhat. I wanted people to care in some way shape or form.
But they don't.
Not because they don't love me. They do. I am just nothing special to anyone. I am not bright enough, no pretty enough, not kind enough, not funny enough, not happy enough, not sad enough, not bitchy enough, not caring enough, not sardonic enough.
I am not enough.
I am just yet another shell. Another picture in black and white.
I wanted my life to be technicolour.
At the moment I would be satisfied with any colour.
Even these words aren't enough. They don't explain the truth of the matter.
When i was about 13 I had this epiphany.
I realised everyone is alone in their own heads.
No one can truly sympathise. Or empathise with another person.
There are 6 billion people out there, all thinking separate things, living separate lives.
I could never differentiate myself.
Because everyone is alike in one way or another. not one is truly unique.
But if I was unique to one person.
I don't think I would feel like this.