AAARRRRGGGHHHHH!!!!!!!

I wrote this obviously, on the fourth. I don’t know whether Jason saw it or not, but I almost don’t care anymore. I’m just . . . Blah. I don’t care. I really don’t. I wish I could cheer up, but, what’s the point? Honestly, what truly would be the point?

Tortured Soul Underneath A Smiley                                                   3/4/2004

“Jason,

I know that this is your diary, and I probably have no right writing on it, but I don’t want to E-mail you with so sensitive a subject. I hope that you’ve read my newest entry, but if you haven’t . . . we truly are changing places. I now find myself sounding like you used to. I don’t know what I mean to anyone, I don’t think I’m meant to be close to anyone, I just feel . . . lost.

I know you don’t see me as anything more than a best friend. And I should be satisfied with that, considering exactly how hard it is for someone to get close to you. In some ways, I am okay with that, it is enough for me. But in other ways, it drives me absolutely insane. You hold me, you wrap your arm around my shoulders, and I love that, but there are times when I just want more. I know. This is probably freaking you out, and I’m probably not going to get any major feedback of what you think of this. I don’t know. Maybe it’s another one of your odd “methods” with me. Not giving me any feedback, I mean. Maybe you want me to deduce these things for myself and just know them, without knowing. But . . . I don’t completely work that way. Yeah, I can know, or speculate on a lot of things, but I need confirmation to know that I’m right. I need affirmatives before . . . I don’t know.

I’m insecure. That, you know. I won’t say that you feed these insecurities, because you don’t, anymore. But . . . I don’t know how to word this. Because some of my insecurities, you do diminish within me. But others, it’s like you look at them, and think, “They’re there. Oh, well.” Like . . . they run too deep for you to want to delve into the source, maybe? That’s about as well as I can word that.

::Sigh:: I guess I feel like I’m constantly building people up, or trying to, giving them reasons to be secure in my presence, but no one does that for me. Like they just expect me to be strong enough, or happy enough, or whatever enough to just know these things, and . . . I don’t!! I don’t know. I don’t know what difference I’ve made in people’s lives, I don’t know if I’ve made people happy, I don’t know if I’ve helped. I certainly know when I’ve hurt, but that only helps to fuel my thinking that I should just escape. This isn’t a despairing, ‘I’m giving up’ letter. It’s . . . a cry for help, I guess. And I’m crying for that help from the only person I know who’s been in this position, and the only one I feel I can turn to. You’re the only one I feel I can trust with this, and trust you with it I am. I know that trust won’t be betrayed, but I hope I won’t be waiting in vain for feedback on Wednesday.

You were wrong, you know. You’re not Dory. You’ve got a good memory, when you want to use it. Please, for my sake, use it concerning this letter.

Love, your Bestest Friend, Kate.”

–Notes–

Hey Kate, I hope he responds. You deserve better feedback than he seems to be giving you. Try not to feel so down. Worse things happen. You know that you are strong and can make it through this. DOn’t forget that! 🙂 [Ruby*Tuesday]