THOSE WHO SUFFER LOVE
It's funny to think that I can't type this because everytime I start to, I start crying so hard I can hardly breath, let alone think...
I just- I can't even- Every single time everything falls down on top of me, and I can't move for- For all of this- I can't even breath, I just-
Us and them is still all I have ever relied on...
I just don't know what's going on anymore... I don't know where I went, or what took its place.
I think I just recieved the first bit of real, geniune sympathy from another human being that I can remember, and it was over something so stupid...
And- With all of that- Everything I put in my head, and try to take out of it- Sometimes, I can't tell if you are wonderful because I believe you are, or if I believe you are wonderful because you actually are... I don't have any distance between myself and these stupid things I make up. You freak me out though. You freak me out because their isn't- There's no- I don't know. I don't really think I'm making up anything in my head... I think you really are just sort of lovely and weird, and, even though, at this point, the total distance and lack of reality don't even matter. You terrify me because you actually exist, and, in every dream I have with you in it, and there have been more than I can actually count, which is probably the most completely unusual thing because in all the time I thought about him- the other him- I didn't even have half as many dreams like this- And in these, they're all so crisp and clear and I can remember seeing your face and listening to your voice and with all the others before that, they were blurry and I'd wake up and couldn't even remember his name or what he looked like- And-
Well. I don't know.
I don't know, and it doesn't even matter. I just have to stop thinking about it; it doesn't even exist.
I'm having such a hard time getting along with myself lately. I can't stand anything I do, and I don't know why anyone puts up with me. People either seem really genuinely offended or put off by me or they seem sort of fascinated and perplexed. I'm either really juvenile or really mysterious, and either way, everyone just keeps their distance.
I don't talk to anyone, but it's only because there's no one to talk to.
I have such a specific way of going about things, and such a difficult way of speaking and communicating and such a weird sense of humor- It feels sometimes like I speak a completely different language, but I think my perceptions of both sincerity and of romance are extremely askew from the rest of the planet- And. Well.
It's not that I just don't like talking to people who don't get it. It isn't that at all. It's that I can't. I can't communicate without sounding like just this total jerk or a weird reculse or completely insane-
But- I don't know, it's hard to explain. I've just got this vernacular that isn't from this country, and I know it isn't, and I think I form thoughts so differently from people-
I just can't get along with anyone who doesn't get it. I'd like to- I would, but- But, the way I am- I don't know. All I know is just sort of extreme literacy and being witty and sort of insane all the time- And-
I don't know. The thing- The thing is, and I know this is so weird and fractured, but I can hardly think straight at all lately- People who are they way that I am- They, you know. They exist.
They exist, and, far and few as they may be, are still the only people I actually understand at all. I mean, the only person who I have ever felt really close to, emotionally, and in real life, real time- we just did it because we could be really cynical and awful and badly behaved and know that each person was still almost painfully empathetic, and painfully optimistic and really did believe in people and was really stuck on romanticisms and-
I don't know. It's part of why this thing that I've built up inside my head to keep myself company and "maintain a sense of closeness" is so difficult- But- I don't know, I can't really talk about that-
And it's the way you are too. It's funny, Sarah, I was re-reading a lot of your diary today. I think sometimes we are the same person... That's always sort of scared me about you. I know exactly- I haven't talked to you in months and I don't know what you're doing or how you are and I don't feel any farther apart from you. I still just feel like you are the only person who has ever... Understood any of it... I don't think I've ever had any ideas of the future- My future- that don't somehow include you in it. Not ever...
And all of this- All the knowing that there are people who are exactly like me, and who I could talk to without really saying what I mean, and knowing what each other meant instead of what they actually said and the ability to use language to our almost constant disadvantage and perpetual amusement- Knowing that there are people who like exactly what I like and play the exact same records and think the exact same things-
Sometimes that's enough to keep me moving forward.
And sometimes it's the most absolutely unbearably painful part...
I always feel selfish for just wanting one fucking person who I could actually talk to, and someone who I could actually go out and do things with, and who would understand me and would not be annoyed or mystified with me and my life, and who would be worth spending time with, because I'm already surrounded by people who I know like me and who will spend time with me, but...
I don't know. It doesn't really seem like so much to ask for...
It's just the waiting I can't stand...
I just... I guess I just don't feel bad about being what I am anymore. I don't feel bad about liking what I like, and even though I also can't stand it and wish that I could just fucking be like everyone else and understand what they understand- It's just hard to know and not have...