I tend to open my mouth when it's best shut. I explode with everything bound by such insignificance that it wouldnt make sense, but to me it does. And in all honesty, thats my only defect as much as i'd like to protest that theres so much more. I only have one insecurity and one fear, and it is of myself.
I couldnt tell you why I do what I do. In all honesty I do not know, and somehow I seemingly can't prevent it. Its an incredible feeling of shame upon myself, where the very minute I feel I'm going to be happy, i ruin it for myself. I errupt with such a violent passion I corrupt those around me into thinking lesser and lesser of myself, and some part of me will not let me stop.
Every time i've ever loved, or cared, i feel weak, and i go with an all out force to drive people away. In all honesty, its fear of myself. I cant let myself be known for what I am, because people don't understand the ersatz phantom of formidable knowledge that I hide. I fear being completed, thats my problem. I turn a pallid eye on what I want most, and I use it to cause myself pain.
If i told you I could count the number of things that I have done in total awareness that it would ultimately fuck up my life, on my hands, that would be a blantant lie. Everytime I let myself discover a counterpart, i cease to be amiable, because quite frankly, it scares me that there was ever someone who could appreciate me for myself. I've lived with me for a long time and to put it very plainly, i'm not to keen of the thought of it being forever.
Occasionally someone will do something irreversable, and this is what I have done. I have put myself in ultimate negative impact and I cannot stand to madden people anymore.
I could do it thick and heartlessly, not realising that there was one thing I did not want to let go of, and having left that embalmed in a destructive wake, I don't want to look at myself anymore.
I have made plenty of wrong decisions before, but nothing so regretable and ungratifying as I have now. Im drowning in a sea of self created drama I have been dragging around as emotional baggage for months, just because it scared me to have good conversation with someone. It scared me to find someone who understood the depth of philosophy and lacked an all too common apathy about the state of the world. I feared caring too much.
As much as I act like an undisturbable brave little girl, I am a coward. I cannot open myself up to anyone being so insecure. I test people all too often, asking questions I just want to vainly hear the answers to. It took a short time to know I had an empathy for someone, more than they would ever known, and fear connection. And i'd do anything within or completely out of reason for time to turn back for me to the day everything collided in my head, and have changed my mind just so I can keep a status, but that is arrogantly selfish and i cannot allow myself to be that way anymore.
I gouged out my own eyes to spite my face. No other beside myself will understand the impact of this to me, though I wish they would, one person prominently among all others, but i cannot logically expect this person to forgive me, i have caused too much hell and disturbance to the dear, as well as what im sure may seem like wasted time.
And I am violently ashamed of myself for allowing anyone to feel like that. And shame contrasts like crimson to ivory, and its a mark that will follow me forever, however low of a scale it seems to you, it will always be the object I am most shameful of. I can offer you no consolation, which might as well be a knife in my chest, because ill be damned if it doesnt feel just as sharp and permanent. There arent enough words to explain to anyone, or justify any of it, but please know that I will never be able to shake the sting of guilt for every day as long as I live, for letting you feel like youve wasted any bit of life on me. Im sorry for changing into the monster I became, but I did it out of my own self loathing, and I didnt want to feel like I needed you as I had began to do...
Astrology and tarot cards, music, the industrial scene, talking until the moon subsided, it was all a comfort, that I felt I didnt deserve, but I didnt know how else to shake it. I cannot avoid being cliche in saying, it was all me, and you had no part in this. i was never able to accept the fact that you made me weakeningly happy and I felt dependant on the time I had with you.
But right now, I fear nothing more than the mirror, because I cannot bear to look at myself...
This myspace is a memory. I am now myself again
add the new one if you care to follow me, though there are a few i want more than others.....
