2005-02-07
so
This is what it is like to be so, so sensitive. I feel the ache inside me right now, like that really bad feeling that it almost doesn't matter what it is from just that it is downright pain. I want to cry at myself for being like this. Something must be very wrong if I can make myself feel this way. It is not fair to anyone, anyone. I am so immensely selfish, these tears will never be justified. I have discovered the downside to complete bliss, it is right here inside of me and my adept ability to hold resenting envy, greener than kermit in some very, very non-comical way. I am so deep and have been oblivously permitted to dive in like this, swimming inside perhaps without circumstance or consequence known. This possibly is not the correct analogy. All I know is that I have no right to call anyone else self-absorbed.
It's very, extremely complex. And makes me feel bad. You are a paradox if I have ever met a person who is so. Or maybe it is my complicated regard to you that is a paradox, so multi-faceted as it is. Jealously overriding the rest. It should have been me. It should have been me in the few crucial times when I was absent and instead it was you. It makes all the difference in the world. Heightened hormones speak this words but I acknowledge my control. I can realize that the only thing more sickeningly complex than my puzzlement with what to think of you is myself, respectively. It's like when you see those people and you look at them and know inside yourself that you will never be what they are. I don't know if you are one of those people for me, but I wouldn't question it. I can look in your eyes, which I haven't in a very long time, possibly never truly, and know that there is something there I do not possess, not only because I am not allowed to but because it is not Me. It is you in whatever you are- which I think we have acknowledged- baffles me.
It should have been me, it should have been me. But you were there. What right have I, what right have I. None at all. Jade is green, like envy. This will end, it will end now, for it has carried on for far to long in these strung words all aimed within myself at the unjustified everything. I can't change the envy, but I can hate. I loathe this feeling I have toward you, please forgive me it's all I ask. Perhaps asking for forgiveness isn't fair. Keep what you have. As little as it is, it is all I have ever wanted on top of all I already have. I cannot be more direct, I cannot assume that the correct people will assume either. Too deep, but the sun shines. My strands are intact, perhaps the only. It should have been me.
leesah-likes at 6:49 p.m.