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DISCLAIMER: If you read this, you may see me in a completely different light. And that is not necessarily a good thing. I'm about to spill my guts out, and I'm not asking you to try and pick them all up.




This has been along time coming. I'm sure those of you who see me daily have noticed it, and don't think I can't read you when you shoot me hose what-the-heck-is-up-with-him glances. Basically, nothing is as it was, and I'm not quite sure of the cause. Something changed over the summer, and not for the better. First off, i realized I needed to vent. And during this zen like period of realization, I realized a few things:

Number one: I can be a genuinely scary person. And that scares the s**t out of me. Adam's seen it, and I always recoil at the fear in his eyes. i never want to make anybody cringe like that, but end up doing it anyways.

Number two: I never know what's next. Do any of YOU know what it's like waking up and not knowing if there's going to be something nobody else can see in your room with you? Or that you can see people who aren't there, and your friends walk right through/past the, without noticing? Or having things that don't have a shape or from haunt you from morning till night, sleep being the one blessed respite you get, and then having to restart it all in the morning? get back to me when you do.

Number three: I'm missing someone. Not something, someone. I don't have an anchor/person there for me. i have plenty of confidants and close friends, and they are all amazing people, but there's a crucial part missing, and it eats away from the inside.

Number four: I can spill my guts out in here, but I have insane amounts of trouble talking to anybody in person.

Number five: Being different is great, but what if your so different that nobody knows what the hell you are? Just once i'd like to meet someone else who can manipulate energy with there bare hands, and not someone who feigns psychic ability/knowledge, and feeds off of my insecurity and basically spews bullshit back at me, hoping to get a piece of info they want. Sorry, not happening.

Number six: I'm thinking exactly what I didn't want to end up thinking. I think about suicide, about how easy it would be to leap off of those stairs, or how easy t would be to throw myself in front of that car. Does it scare me? Damn straight. Do I act upon these whims? Obviously not. I think about cutting myself, too. This one would be even easier. For those of you who have seen my room, I have plenty of knives. Do I cut myself? No. And I don't want all of you demanding to see my wrists tomorrow.

Number seven: I'm a hell of a better counsellor then some of you. I listen, I offer help when I can, and what do i get? I get dumped upon. I get treated like I am not here, that I'm not even ******** attempting. I CAN"T READ MINDS. I have no ******** clue what you want me to say, and God forbid if I say something to offend.

Number eight: I'm going to have some people angry at me tomorrow. None of this is directed at anybody in particular. If you take it personally, I'm sorry, it wasn't meant that way.

Number nine: I a nut-job. Reading back over what i just wrote, i would completely avoid me at all costs. Huh. Joy.

Number ten: No, this isn't a cry for pity or help. I'm just typing what's in my head, because I know if i don't, I won't tell anybody, and it'll just get bottled up again.




Good night everyone. See you tomorrow.