Why Me?
2001-08-02 02:57:59 (UTC)

Once Upon A Time...


Once upon a time, there was this little girl. Her name
was Erin. She was cute and sweet and wore doggy ears all
the time. Everyone said that she wrote really good stories.
Then, Erin grew up into a teenager. She became bitter and
angry at something as yet unknown. A raw hatred chewed at
the insides of her heart and there was nothing that she
could do about it because she didn't know what it was that
she hated. To Erin, it seemed like some essential piece of
her was missing. Or lost. Or both. She didn't know. Her
life seemed a crazy haze - filled with fog and wild, lunatic
laughter that only she could hear. This laughter constantly
filled her mind, chilling her very bone marrow. No one ever
knew about how sad and lonely Erin was, though. Erin was
quiet and almost always tried to smile. She made straight
A 's in school and did the things and acted the ways that
she was expected to. Of course, if one would have taken the
time or effort to really SEE Erin, they would have known
that there was something not quite right. In her eyes, they
might have seen a vague mist of tears or a constant veil of
sadness. Or perhaps, even more terrifying, nothing at all.
For Erin had begun to try NOT to feel - feeling got you
hurt; feeling made the pain and anger inside cry to be
unleashed up on the world like a vicious dog. She wrote
stories, still, but they were not of the planets and stars
and imaginary creatures of her head - they were of death,
cold and remorseless death. Erin had one friend - but
didn't want to allow herself to be close, she knew what came
of friends: a temporary relief and then a darting pain
coursing throughout her body as that "friend" stabbed her in
the back. Erin and her friend talked of things - they
shared things that they had never told other people. Erin,
however, was always wary. She and her friend had once had
another friend - he let them down, or rather they LET him
let them down. Now Erin still talks to her friend and
thanks whatever might be listening above, but nothing will
replace that pure coldness in her heart. She doesn't want
to feel, but she does. She doesn't want to cry, but the
tears hardly ever cease. Occassionally, her smiles aren't
false and occassionally, her laughs are genuine. But more
often than not, it is all a complex charade. Erin is
playing a game - the game of life - and no one has bothered
to tell her the rules....

Yeah, that was weird. Strangely,I feel a little better.
Not a lot. I want to tell my friend (from the story) - b/c
I KNOW she'll eventually read this - that she's probably the
only thing that's keeping me tethered to the real world
right now and for that, I love her better than I could any
sister. I wish I could tell her more that although I know
I'm bitchy, and annoying, and God knows what else, that I
don't mean to be. I know I take her for granted. So,
that's all. I guess I'll get back in touch with ya later,
Diary, but now it's time to go...

xxoo - Eryn