Victim 3443

Girl wearing Tear Stained shirt and a Morphine Drip
Whose diary I snatched..

I have gone through all the pages. It was painful. Listening to her words without my inane inserts brings tears to my eyes…

Her opening line was:

I’m writing this so I have something to laugh about in a couple of months. Once I have realized I’m okay, I’ll find this all funny.

I thought alcohol was supposed to make you numb, at least for the time being. Or maybe I wasn’t drunk enough. I didn’t think it allows all the things that you are so good at suppressing to surface. It hurts to be drunk.

Just like thinking about you hurts like hell. Usually, putting pain in words helps. Sort of starts the healing process. This is going to be one long and painful process. And it hasn’t even started yet.

I want to regret a lot of things. I want to regret not being aware. I want to regret not seeing the signs. Want to regret putting off building that wall until I cant even bring myself to draw the line.

I want to hate myself. I want to hate myself more. i want to hate myself for letting myself fall. I want to hate myself for thinking I can manage. Want to hate myself for writing this.

I could not bring myself to regret everything. I could not hate myself more than I already do. I do not want to lose the memory of you and my stint with happiness.


Second…how unlucky

It took a decade to finally want to erase that friendship line I draw around everyone I meet. To meet someone I’ll gladly cross the line for while at the same time being aware of how painful it’s going to end. This is the closest it has felt to the last time. No, I’m not in love. Thank God, or I don’t know if I’ll be capable of writing this had it come to that. Doesn’t matter though. It hurts like hell, still.

I miss being behind the safety of my wall where it’s easier not to get hurt.

I agree with her. A wall is a very convenient way of not being hurt. Also, the easiest way to not be anything at all. That diary of hers has plenty of more painful and tear stained entries. Once I get around to transcribing them I’ll post them here.

I hope this diary has a part two though because I’m not seeing anything that says…

I’m laughing at how sappy and sad I was in my previous entries.

Signing on...

Time to take some tissue, my nearly dried out pen and a useless, random topic I snatch from a stranger. Snort my favorite ground coffee and put my two cents in a coffee cup.

Sit, just don’t bother my coffee.

Goodbye, indefinitely...

If is should properly document my everyday life this entry will end here.

Fortunately, I have enough sense in me to try and create a little fun in my world. It has worked quite well for the past so and so years. Just enough to keep me borderline sane. For the past few months now it has been steadily becoming useless. My lalaland is falling apart. I think I invented a character so good that I wish he was real. And by real I mean imperfect…

This is cconfused signing off indefinitely. All future entries shall be credited to this other person I do not really know.

Walking away

You should never make important decisions while happiness runs amok in your head. It clouds your ability to think straight, objectively, unbiased. It creates faulty parallelism in your thoughts ----and in your sentences. Happiness masks the truth of the impending hurt.

I don’t regret being happy, that would be stupid. I love being happy. I love waking up knowing I don’t need to find a reason to be happy. I just am. But that doesn’t mean it will not hurt. And it hurts like hell. So don’t blame me for being afraid.

I enjoyed the smiles while it lasted. I’m guessing it’s payback time.