#119

I write tonite not knowing what I want to say. I just know that I have something to say and that it needs to be said.

But to whom and why? I don’t know who I’m writing to anymore. What am I writing for nowadays, is it still the release it always used to be? I don’t think so so much anymore. It’s a little clarification on keeping focused. But the comfort and the understanding I used to feel as I wrote isn’t there so much anymore. I think that’s because I don’t know who I’m writing to anymore. I don’t need to write for me and I never have; I talk to myself constantly in my thoughts. After all, what is thought for me but the act of talking to myself, trying to understand. My thoughts are so much stronger than a word can ever be…they encompass force in the form of pure emotion; pure emotion that is much stronger than any word or words I’ve ever read. Perhaps that’s different for others, but that’s what thought is, to me. Just an attempt to understand. But I am not writing for me.

Am I writing to Jacinta still? Sometimes. Not often so much anymore. I’m not sure if she cares so much to keep up with where I am and who I am. Maybe it’s even better for her not to. I still have a lot of darkness to wade through on my way up and I’m well aware that she’s tired of having to help me and support me through that. In some ways that bothers me but I don’t think I can blame her. She’s human too, she has her own too every bit as much as I do. I suppose I thought of her as more giving and supportive and benevolent than she actually is sometimes. It doesn’t matter. I don’t really need it anymore either. It’d just…make things a lot easier, I think. Easier, but perhaps not better. With that comes a slew of other problems and potential screwups. Perhaps I’m just not worth it anyway. That would be nothing new.

I’m not writing to Jacinta. Very little these days is directed at her specifically. Maybe I should write to her more. She’s always been such a strong postive outlet for me, something to strive for. I wonder, though, if perhaps what I’m doing is only making things more difficult for her. What if the things I say and way I feel for her is only making it harder for her to separate herself from me like she wants to? So maybe it’d be the wrong choice to keep focusing on her as much as I do, let alone start directing entries at her once more. I don’t know. Somehow I suspect she won’t let me know what I should be doing, either. She’s been very good at not letting me know what’s going on in her head lately when it comes to me. Haha, perhaps that should be a sign in and of itself. Perhaps I’m just blind and naive, as ever. That, too, would be nothing new. I’m good at believing in the things I want to believe in without any true basis in reality.

Lots of things ring true about that statement. No basis in reality…I keep getting the feeling that my realities are clashing right now. My old one and my new one. The new one keeps winning but the old one keeps coming up. Hrm hrm hrm. Am I making the write choice? But that’s an entirely different topic altogether.

Am I writing to the people who seem to keep up on my diary without ever actually noting me too often? Or just the people on here in general? Am I looking for attention? In some ways I think I am. But I believe that that’s only because I’m lonely, no other reason. I’m lonely and I want someone to be here with me, I’m not good at being alone anymore. I used to be able to go for weeks and love it…but not anymore. There’s no…improvement there, there is no balance in that. Just lopsided circumnavigations that eventually spirial out of control. But that’s all it is. Just loneliness. I honestly don’t care about others’ opinions of me and what I write. I know what I write is the truth and it’s powerful and meaningful for me. I don’t believe that it should hold the same for anyone else. People are different and it’s incredibly important that they are; they can’t be like me nor would it be right if everyone agreed with me. So, even though they have value and are important, their opinions of me and mine aren’t that important. They have their own values and paths to pursue and I have mine. Until they step forward and become something more than a shadow then that’s all they can ever be. I can look for harmony amongst the two of us once we become friends. Until then, there can be nothing more. I am not writing for others who might read these words.

Am I writing to the people who are important to me? No. I keep the thought of them and the things associated with them very distanced from my writing. What I wrote was always something more personal than others. If I wanted to tell them something, show them something, I’d talk to them. I would tell them. No, I’m not writing for others who are important to me.

Am I writing for the future, to leave a mark? I doubt it. I don’t deem it currently worthwhile for others to look upon my past. Yes, sometimes it could be a very positive effective thing, especially when it comes to showing why I understand others who’ve been in the same boat I have been, when I need to prove myself to others so I can help them more. But that’s a very rare case. People are large don’t understand that, they can’t even though they try. Not even Jacinta really understands what it’s like to live the past that I have. I don’t think that it’s important for people in general to see me and hear my words. There are better people to look to and to learn from. I’m very very flawed…I’m very much in pain and I lack positivity in my writing because of that pain, despite my current positive outlook. There are better examples. Better people to idolize. Better people to learn from. Better people to scorn. I am not writing to leave a mark.

Why do I write?

I don’t know. Maybe I should stop for a while.