damik's Diaryland Diary

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You don't know me

Sometimes I wish some one would notice, some one would see that I'm in the deep end and bairly keeping my head above water. Look one of my "friends" in the eye and ask them if they even know me at all. I've sat for hours on end listening to your life, your problems, your fears and sorrowes. What the hell do you know about me? You didn't ask how my day went. You don't care that I can't get up in the morning, how sometimes I wake up in the middle of the night so desprately alone I'm afraid I'm the only one lerf. How sometimes this world seems so dismal and dark that I would do anything to shake it up. How sometimes this world seems so pointless and pathatic I would almost do anything to end it. Or how a few times I nearly did.
I could go on for hours on what you don't know about me. I don't seem maticulas, but in some cases I am. I'm not going to die with music playing in the background. It's going to be eeirly quiet. With a hint of sunlight creaping thruough the closed blinds casting shadowes on our green couch. It would be easier in the bedroom, I know, but, for some reason that's not an option. The cats would be locked up in there instead waiting for some one to come home and let them out. It's early afternoon. And it scares me that I know so much detail about it. I bet you didn't know that I know how I'm going to die.
Or how much I want to matter. When the charity calls I give more then I have to pretend I make a difference.
All you really know about me, as I sit there listening with my vaguely vacant smile, is that I will listen and seem to care, give advise as appropreate. And that's all you care to know.
I'm falling, I'm failing and I need some one to talk to. I had that once, but he's not in the position to be there for me any more. Not that he'd want to. I'm not worth the effort.
I want to distroy everything I've worked for. Rip appart this false me I've built to save myself from embarresment. I've worn this disguise for so long now the girl under it has ceased to exist. She hasn't really but the world at large wouldn't care to know her. I dont' care to know her. What's sad is no one cares to know the fake me either.
There was a question once, I don't remeber where I came acrossed it, but it asked what's the dirtiest word ever. Mine wasn't in the multipule choice answers they provided. To me the dirtiest word ever is alone.
No one I know would assoiate with me if they weren't forced to. If they didn't work with me or work wit Trevor they wouldn't bother with me at all. It's a discouraging thought, that I can't be bothered with.
I want to ruin my life. I don't deserve it anyway. I want to commit some desprate act so finally some one would care for me.

7:29 p.m. - 07-20-02
4 comments

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