Dear Journal, today I saw the new spider-man. The animated one. The second one.
Since last time much happened. In the last two week I went on camp and met a lot of wonderful people and discovered something about myself too. Or at least finally put words to it, I dread loneliness... And since then, it has only been worse.
Ignorance is bliss as they say, well I would sometimes like to ignore myself. Since the discovery, I have only been painfully aware of what I felt for so long. Slowly I have come to understand all the different mechanism I have put into place to help me cope with this and just like knowing they are only sugar pill, their placebo seems to become less effective.
I have no friends, true friends, people I can talk about this with. Stranger helps, like emotional one night stand but they don't fill the void, just mask it while you think it's real. I know I am not alone, I have a loving & supportive family and people around me to talk to but it's not the same. They don't feel like people I can say everything to. This is also my fault, I should be more open about how I feel and so on but I can't just shrug off habits that have been there for years and have been deeply rooted into me.
Writing helps too. I sometimes wish they would find this and read it. Know about how I feel without having to open up in front of them. Would that remove part of the reward ?
That is selfish for sure, putting the emotional burden on others to come up to you to help... I sometimes want to cry. I now want to cry. Yet... I can't. Not that I am unable, I did during the movie, but I don't know how to... for real stuff. Society is a bitch sometimes, robbing us of ourselves to fit what is expected. I became what was expected and still I have some regret. Not of what I missed but of what I could have done if I hadn't wanted to be so normal...
How do you cry ? (That would be a great title If I ever write a book)
I am lonely and hurting and yet, I can only be sad about it. Not "sad" sad, just... sad. Asepticized sadness, thinking that I should be sad while being empty, void of every once of feeling. Plain empty. Isn't that ironic?
Dear journal, I laughed and cried. Cried and laughed.
