Overwhelming Quiet

Journal Entry #3

July 9th

As children we learn what it's like to be unique. To have our own texture of hair, our own shape of eyes, our own preferences, our own hobbies, our own thoughts, our own feelings. And therein lies our specialness. Our beauty. They don't prepare you for how isolating that is. How lonely it is to live as your own completely separate self. To be an individual is to acknowledge that no one lives like you do. No one can accompany you inside your own head.

There's something lonely about being around Gunn. About the fact that no matter what I say or do, he'll never know exactly why I'm saying it, or why I'm doing it. He'll never know the exact purpose or meaning. He won't know me like I know me. And I won't know him.

I'm a shitty person. I do everything wrong. If I listed off all the bad things I've done here, I'd have to buy another notebook. I'm a bad brother. I didn't treat my little sister the best while she was growing up and by the time she reached teenhood, it didn't matter. I had different expectations for her. She was outward about her emotions and spoke every feeling as she was feeling it. I didn't understand why she couldn't be like me. Who was she to assume people would care about her feelings? Automatically? It was douchey, I know that, but now It's too late. I'm a bad son. I don't return my dad's calls that often, and if it wasn't for the fact that I was visiting my mom in a month, I probably wouldn't answer hers either.

As a kid, I rejected therapy. I sat there and I said the same thing each time. That I was fine and that I was just bored with school. Not depressed. And when my therapist would inevitably poke and pry and ask me where my boredom and bad moods stemmed from, I would just shrug and say I didn't know. This happened every week until my mom decided she couldn't keep driving me if I was just going to complain about it.

Therapy can't fix what's wrong with me.

There are days I feel incorporeal. It's been so long since I have been touched that I wouldn't be surprised if I slowly disintegrated into the air.

I've never dated and I've never had sex. Sometimes I feel so touch-starved I bite my wrists and knuckles just to have some intense physical feeling. I have never wanted to have casual sex. I've never understood the idea of faked intimacy. The thought of being in a relationship doesn't sit right with me either. I don't even know what type of person I would want to love. Someone who liked books? Someone soft-hearted? Someone who hates everything, like I do? I guess that isn't so wrong. I just know that if someone was ever cursed with being in a relationship with me, I'd be the world's worst boyfriend outside of Chris Brown.

No one would ever love me anyway. So why not live in fantasies?