let me sink
2003-08-14 || 6:21 p.m.

And I have to be glad that this is only me, because I know I don't matter.

I need to rise above the things I want.

I just hate to look in the mirror and see this person who looks so beautiful looking back at me. I hate the fact that she had to have me inside her ruining things for her.

I hate it that there must be two people inside of me. One who is good and kind and funny and sweet and intelligent and one who is foul.

When I was a child I spent all my time wrapped in my fantasies in my head. I used to stroke my face and believe that one day someone else would feel what I could feel. That one day someone would honestly choose to touch me.

You see, the stupid thing is that it kept me going because I honestly believed it. I never, for one minute, imagined things would never change. That no-one would ever want to touch me.

Of course I should have realised.

Somehow all the hurts of childhood and all the hurts of Alain and being hated and spat at and hit and so much more that would be indulgent to go into, somehow I managed to take them and bury them somewhere.

What I forgot to do was to bury me first, underneath them all. And I arrogantly still believed I was a human being.

I should have realised that I was a waste of breath, of space, of time.