the wilderness remains
2003-05-25 || 10:02 a.m.

I keep thinking about the past. It's like its ever-present, more real than now. I don't mean to. Things just appear in my head and then I wonder why I am thinking about the past so much and I wonder if it really will be time for me to die soon. I know that its also because I have no present or future, the past is all there is. I don't just think about my past now, I think about all my pasts and I know that me being a unique soul, in the style of Catholic belief just cannot be true because no God would make someone like me. I have to just be an impersonal part of some larger whole, nothing else could explain my lack of connection with people, my lack of emotion and my stupidity.

I think that maybe I think about when I was a child a lot in an ironic way because when I was a child I thought I had a future. But there must have been clues there telling me that this was not so.

I just don't understand any of this at all. I try to be honest about myself. I actually don't know why I write this diary. It is getting harder to write in here because I feel repetitive and I feel boring. And the most dumb thing of all is that I keep forgetting that my feelings don't matter and I write as if they do!

And so I take a step back and look at me as if I am not me and I think that what I see is mostly quite good. But I also see that I am very clearly black and white or good and evil or however you want to split me and describe me. What I mean is hard to put into words because its more a mental image, more an idea, but I am not whole. I am like a sketchy personality, like a line drawing rather than a whole picture. I am not full and real and meaningful like others. I am more like a naive beginning, a rough start, like the plan to an essay rather than the actual thing. I think I am pretty much nothing and I think I understand things wrong and so I stop myself from thinking things like 'how come that person who is horrible and selfish and nasty to others, gets love and a family and good things happen to them and yet I don't' because actually I know its not like that at all. 'That' person is a well rounded, whole individual and they have depths that I don't have.

My life has to be dedicated to altruism and loneliness because I don't have those depths.

And so I have to carry on being like the plasticine model that got dropped in the lego town.

And I have to understand that the reason I don't have and will never have the things I want is because I am too primitive. And so I am primitive but I feel an awful lot of pain. It hurts so much that I could be physically sick.

I'm tired of being sad all the time. I think it would be better if I just was not here anymore then everyone could be justified in being angry at me but it wouldn't be that that mattered. All that would matter would be that I would have done Bex and the world a favour and stopped inflicting myself on people who I just drag down.

But if I am so primitive, why do I know what I lack? Because I do know. I feel the gap everyday. I know that somewhere there is perfect love and I realise I am being excluded from it on many levels. I believe that somewhere it is possible to feel the all encompassing warmth of the whole universe and we try to re-create that in our personal relationships. It has different aspects so we have different aspects of love here.

But then I begin to realise.

I have these theories of time. Of time as not linear, I've said this before. Therefore I am not really this person typing this diary, all the things I have ever done are happening all at once.

And now I understand.

Not only am I alive, but I am also in hell.

After all, hell is the the exclusion from the light and love of the universe.