Falling To Pieces.

Because I'll never be able to say this in person...


Over the past year and a half, I've liked other guys. I've been on a couple 'dates', and they all ended disastrously. I've liked, and I've confessed, and I've lost, and yet I still keep coming back to him. And I mean... we're not super compatible. We come from completely different backgrounds. He's not that tall. He has a slight fob accent. He's never been in nor sought out a relationship. Yet for some reason, I persist in liking him. It's fruitless; a complete dead end. It's never going to go anywhere. He's clearly not interested. I'm not his type, if he even has a type. So why the fuck can't I let it go?

Maybe I'm a specific kind of masochist. Because truly, liking someone when the feeling is unreturned is like looking through one-way glass. You can see the other person through it, but no matter what you do, or what you say, nothing is going to make them see you. And technically speaking, they could flip that switch to turn the light on and see through to the other side, but they either don't need or don't want to. So basically you're left standing behind a barrier that's never going to give way, unless the other person chooses to let it [which they never will]. It's an unreachable, impossible goal. Guess that's why they call it a dream.

So... I can't say I'm going to walk away, because I've tried that. And I can't say that I'll find someone else to like, forget about him, or not care about it. Because I've tried all of those, too, and they don't work. I don't know what to do. I want closure without awkwardness. But of course, that's never what happens. So. What now?

Every Memory Of Looking Out The Front Door...

I found my diary that I started near the beginning of year 12. It doesn't feel that long ago, but it simultaneously feels like a lifetime has passed. My 17 year old self was pretty dumb. But I had my moments xD
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03/04/08
[These were/are my priorities in life, in no particular order].

-making money
-having fun
-friends
-establishing myself
-keeping contact with people like [insert names]. I.e. those that I'm scared I'll leave behind.
-not failing school.
-living.
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02/11/08
... my parents are assholes. My mother's a bitch, my father's a bastard, and together they make the perfect couple. [LOL. I didn't put this in because it's true. I put it in because it's immature and hilarious]
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26/09/09
Dear Diary,

I liked it better when... It didn't feel pathetic to cry.

It wasn't bad to be impulsive.

Money didn't decide everything.

It was okay to be unrealistic every now and again.
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31/09/09

Dear Diary,

I think that part of being smart is being able to take orders, yet also being able to turn around and say "fuck you, I'm doing this my way". You also need to be able to move flexibly between these two extremes according to context. In my opinion, being able to do all of these things factor into being smart.

I also think that people should be allowed to make their own mistakes from time to time. There's no point to life without learning, and a part of learning involves making mistakes. I don't believe that anybody has the right to inhibit another person's actions, simply because 'they know best'. Fact of the matter is, sometimes they do know best, sometimes they don't, but what the hell is the point of living if you never have the chance to find out for yourself?
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19/11/09

Dear Diary,

FUCK MY LIFE.
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There were a couple entries about Josh, a few mentioning Muzi [excluding the pages that I hacked out of the book because my mother found and read it], about ten million entries about Brian, a few about Chris, a shitload of complaining about the HSC... I can't believe what I used to think was meaningful. Some of it, sure, it hasn't changed a lot. But a ton of things were just... kind of embarrassing to read, because I sounded like such a massive loser. And it's a little worrying, because I'm pretty sure that in a few years time I will look back at myself now and think "Oh my god. Why was I such a retard?". Still. I think it's important to remember where and who we've been. Things like diaries hold memories in a way that no photo ever could.

You're Perfect To Me

I don't even care that I'm still meaningless to you. It doesn't change a thing.

Sad, but true.