letters of my words
2003-08-26 || 1:40 p.m.

So I want to write something really honest but I don�t know if I will be brave enough.

I am a twisted, dark, poisonous person. I feel like my mind hates me, not that I think it exists separately of me or anything. Its not like there are black beasts for me to battle, more that I just exist in permanent horrible darkness. My own hell.

These things are in my mind and if I write them down I don�t want them to be misunderstood. They are all about how I see me and how I think others see me. How I see others is totally different to this. I truly believe that others are beautiful, pure souls carrying within them a light that we call god. If they do things wrong or if they don�t seem beautiful it�s the human bit that�s to blame. The ego; a trial. But underneath, when that dissipates at death, they are whole and perfect. And it seems to me that some people have less of the human brutality and more of the fragile beauty of their soul on display. And I think that life can be hard for them and they should never have to have contact with a dark, ugly me.

And so really I should keep this general, but I want to be honest.

I�ve been wondering why you won�t let me see you. I came to this conclusion. You don�t want me to see you because you don�t want me to like you because you don�t really like me anymore. Of course you couldn�t, it would be too good to be true. And so you can see that my thoughts are ugly.

And I�m so terribly jealous of those new names that have appeared over the last two days. They will be people with beautiful souls and I haven�t been brave enough to read their words because I know their beauty will shame me.

And my stupid dark-deep black mind tries to send you perfect words because its like you�ve bewitched me. But I know it exists solely in my mind and you are just a kind, pure person and I have misunderstood your words.

And I want to talk to you and I want to hear from you but its all just part of my twisted ugliness.

But please don�t worry, I am master of self-control. I know my whole life is made up in my head and these are just words to describe the unreal. I believe everything about me to be hollow and shallow and empty and I believe that I just make up that I have desires and wants and can feel love.

Some things are prophetic.

Alain said to me that no-one could ever love me. He said I should be grateful that he bothered with me. He said I would end my life sad and alone.

And so really I shouldn�t use the words �dark� and �black� to describe me. Because the dark can be comforting. The black of the sky can be peaceful. Dark thoughts can be fun.

And I am too intense. And I shouldn�t be saying these things. I would scare you away.

My next entry will be about metaphors and symbols.

My entry after that will be about cheap shower gel and bedraggled underwear.