Midnight

The Nightshade Princess
2002-07-16 04:13:02 (UTC)

The day before...

My hair never looks so good as the day before it is
cut or dyed. I almost wish I hadn't made the choice to do
what I desire to do. I think back and laugh at myself,
remembering all the days I cursed it. In no small way, I
see this pattern all around me. Nothing is ever so sweet
or so precious as before it dies, changes, is ripped away
from you...
There is trouble in paradise, trouble with the one
person with whom I never thought I would disagree in such a
way. I just got a letter from him, one that confused me
more than I can state in words at the moment. He speaks of
loving me and wanting to see me happy, yet in the past 2
days he hasn't so much as bothered to give me a phone call,
an email, a "fuck you..." NOTHING. Before that, I know not
HOW long I waited before finally tiring of the silence and
giving him a call. We went on an awsome date 2 nights ago.
Before that, there was another long silence. Whenever I DO
call him, there is silence and trivial conversation. I
would almost think that the flames have gone out on his
side of the relationship.
I got a letter from him a few moments ago. It was
about 11:30 pm when his FRIEND knocked on the door and gave
my mom (who had been sleeping) a letter for me. The letter
told of how much he "loves" me. It spoke of all the sweet
memories that we had made together, and expressed concern
for my obsession with death. He exaggerated though. I
haven't been telling him that I want to die every day.
Hell, I don't even SPEAK to him every day. He hasn't even
been there when I've been the most upset, when I most
wanted death. His little letter (or at least I am assuming
he wrote the damned thing - he didn't even sign it and it
words he usually misspells were correct), asked whether or
not I still loved him. I will post my reply here after I
send it to him.
Tomorrow, at noon, I have an appointment to change my
hair, hopefully for the better. It is to be dyed
blue/black, and probably cut. Either it is to be a little
longer than shoulder-length, or it shall be a really
interesting yet hard to describe style: short in the very
back, yet diagonally lengthening until the front, which
shall be long. I know not for certain, though. I shall
write here when it is finished. There is much more going
on in my life than this, but those things can wait to be
told. Good night everyone.