i picked you out of a crowd and talked to you
2003-05-16 || 7:05 p.m.

Sometimes I am so confused and so foolish.

Someone just sent me something to read and I don't deserve it at all. Really I don't. It makes me want to cry to think that anyone could think me in any way worthwhile.

I am such a fool, I could bang my head against a wall until it explodes for how stupid I am.

No-one's self-esteem and learning should be left in my hands, I'm sure I'm doing more harm than good. What has happened to me? I have no idea who I am and I don't even know where to look to find out. Every time I try to think of a starting point I just feel more confused. I used to think I could look to childhood for the real me because I sort of thought we brought our dreams and aims and possibilities into this life with us and childhood is when we have that true awareness. Then I thought of the things I remembered from the long ago past. The past that is ever present around me, I thought there were truths about me there. And I wondered if it was all a dream, all a mirage, some illlusion I made up to while away a boring life. I really don't know. And the strange thing is, that I never look to me now for any answers because I almost feel like the 'me' now is just not real.

And the person who very nearly made me cry today with their thoughtfulness - I miss them very much indeed. I think about them a lot and I wonder about it all.

I've had a really down week with hardly any ups at all. I've been feeling guilty because I've abandoned Helen because when I'm sad I'm best alone and honestly, no-one else at work talks to me anyway. I just think I do everyone a favour if I stay out of the staffroom, they truly don't need me cluttering up their life. So I tried to make a bit more of an effort in the last 24 hours with Helen because I really do like her, she's funny and kind and we have things in common, but sometimes I think I just stuff everything up.

I feel an utter failure. I feel like sad is the only aspect to my personality. Like it just radiates off me and there is nothing else to me at all.

And so I try to say funny things but I am a sham. I say shocking things because its funny but I know most people are laughing nervously and hoping I go soon.

And I'm scared of what might happen. I'm scared of losing what I've never had. And so I have to think it into being because maybe thinking is where it is. And one thing I've always thought is that somewhere thoughts are just as real as anything else, but how do I get there? because I'd rather be there than here. I had the same theory about fiction too, somewhere it is all played out. Maybe somewhere we are a fiction and the fiction is the reality. Anything is possible really because nothing is as it seems.

And I just don't get any of it at all but I don't want to lose what I may know.