When I close my eyes, the possbilities are infinite

To You:

There's something I've had on my mind for a little while now, and it's just killing me. It's pushing and prodding at my insides and making me sick. It's not your fault, if anything, it's mine. I was stupid and unobservant once... or maybe twice... and now I can't seem to get past it, but the even stupider truth is that I already sort of tried to tell you about it once, and I feel like if I try to explain it better, you'll just think I'm being overdramatic. Girl who cried wolf syndrome, perhaps? But really... this is the best I can explain it.

Maybe you didn't realize the full implications of what I told you before. I was deceived, really badly. I let myself fall head over heels, mostly because I was tricked into thinking he cared when he really didn't at all. The worst part is that I didn't notice. I didn't pick up on it. That was the part that got me, that was the part that still doesn't sit well with me. The way I was totally oblivious to the honest situation.

What that means, in the end, is that while I trust you, I don't trust myself. I feel I can't fully trust my own judgement of anything that goes on, so while everything seems just peachy to me, there's this second-guessing little voice in the back of my head that goes "yeah, and it seemed just peachy to you when you were being manipulated, too." So I feel like I can never actually know, and that makes me really really tense.

What I'm asking of you, in this psychotic roundabout way, is to... I don't even know, I guess I just want to know... that's all...

I've found happiness independent of other people, other events, other things. It's wonderful. I wish everyone could feel it. It's not a perpetual grinning happiness... more a frequent peace. I still get angry or upset of course, but on the whole, I'm serene.

When I made this journal, it wasn't supposed to be for you. It wasn't supposed to be about you. But it was supposed to help me get things off my mind, and you're on my mind right now in a very big way, so I'll use this resource to expel these things from my head.

Because when I'm getting tired, and my grip on the serenity starts to slip... you help remind me of it. You help me to be happy too.

I just wish I could tell you things like that -- I wish I could tell you how much I care about you, but you're so indifferent to almost everything... life seems to just bounce off of you, so apathetic and easygoing... I can't imagine you care nearly as much about me. And the last thing I want is to scare you. I know you haven't been around quite as much, and you're only just settling into the dynamic we have now. The last thing I want is to pressure you into being any closer to me, or letting me in any more than you're comfortable with. The last thing I want is to scare you.

So I'll stay quiet for now. I'm peaceful enough, it won't eat me up inside. Sometimes it hurts me just a little -- sometimes it interferes with my thoughts, especially when you're around, and it's part of why I seem so spacey when you're near. Because in trying to think of something to say, what I'm doing is trying to get past the singular thought of how much I adore you. It makes for some awkward silences, some slightly unnatural gaps in conversation, because my head's not totally focused on a topic... a good portion of it is focused on you.

But the last thing I want is to scare you.

So what else can I do but stay quiet for now?

I think I must begin by apologizing.

I suppose it sounds a little like a suicide note, and in a way, it is. If concepts and ways of viewing life and the world define a person, then I'm killing myself, in the same way that phoenix does, and similarly being born again from the ruins of my old perception into a new and better human being.

On to the delayed apologies.

I'm sorry to everyone who actually cares for me, who has seen my constant struggle against an overarching, life-encompassing depression (a depression by the very meaning of the word -- that gives the feeling of being pressed down) and against surrendering my desires and myself to mediocrity. I know it never made any sense, and I'm sorry you could only look on as I dove deeper and deeper into the beast, because instead of running from it, or ignoring it, or dissolving it with chemicals, or just knocking it unconscious from time to time, I had made the decision to find its core and destroy it from within.

And I'm sorry that I'm not finished. I'm sorry that I'm still going to angst sometimes, I'm still going to murmur cryptic things because I want to tell you everything, but something in me makes me stop, and I'm sorry that this person is still under major construction.

I'm not finished, but I'm getting there, and I have a new weapon at my disposal. I'm stronger than I ever was before, so I'm more determined than ever to tear down the walls that stand between me and the truth.

Caterpillars know what they're doing -- going into a cocoon for the change to butterfly. As long as they're wrapped up, they don't have to focus on anything but what they need to do to become what they're going to be. Humans are silly that way, putting pressure and demands on all sides of a person when what they actually need is to concentrate on changing into themselves.

At any rate, I'm sorry, and I think the worst is over.