I've been wading through some of my old journal entries to see how and where I was a year ago, two years ago... all that crap.
I know I shouldn't be doing this because it triggers me. But I can't help it. It's like a moth heading towards light, not caring it will kill/blind itself. I am morbidly drawn to it in a similar way. This was a letter I wrote over a year ago. November 11th, 2003. I didn't die that day either.
Dear __anyone who gives a shit______,
It’s hard to put it all into one letter, to construct one piece of work that will reflect everything that I feel right at this moment.
What I am about to do is a long time coming. It is the final act of a play that has gone on for far too long. It’s not about one thing. It’s not about anyone I know, or not know. It’s not about any one event. There is no reason for it, and I cannot explain it, except to say that that’s just how things have come to be. So don't go pointing the finger on this, or that, or anyone. Just learn to accept it, the way I never could.
Sometimes people go for a walk without a destination in mind. They end up somewhere without ever meaning to. There’s no reason or explanation for that. It’s just how things come to be.
I’ve been so sad, so disillusioned, so disappointed. I want so much more than this even though I know in my heart that that cannot be possible for me. Learning to accept this way of life just doesn’t cut it. It’s not that I can’t live like this. I just don’t want to anymore.
I’ve made my share of mistakes, true, but I tried to redeem myself.
I'm only human.
I was only human.
I’ve tried to be a good person but somehow misguidedly end up being selfish and cruel. I never meant to hurt anyone. I never set out to hurt anyone intentionally. Sometimes things simply get beyond me and the shit hits the fan. I’m so, so sorry for all that.
I can only hope to be forgiven because I could never forgive myself.
Nov 11, 2003