Psychic Bambi

The Unbearable Darkness of Being Skye...
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2001-08-04 07:53:32 (UTC)

"Broken".

BrOkEn...it's broken; and you broke it.
Try and fix it you inconsiderate prick! Please!...it's rude
of you to pretend that you didn't intentionally do this to
me, moreso because of how hurt I find myself now...every
second, of every fucking day.
Ouch.

"Smile Skye, it's not THAT bad"...fuck off it's not. I'm
surprised my heart's still beating after yesterday...I
tried so very hard NOT to get so emotionally involved with
someone who really, as it turns out, couldn't have cared
less about how shattered I would have ended up...and did.

But WHY?! Did it turn
out so fucking badly for me? Yes, for once, I will bitch
and whine about how hard done by I think I am, and how much
I feel that the weight of the world is on my shoulders...
...share the load with me?...
...At least respect my faith in you...

BLAH, BLAH, FUCKING BLAH.

In life we have no control. I mean, whatever became of the
moment when one first knew about death? There must have
been one, a moment, in childhood, when it first occurred to
you that you don't go on forever.
It must have been shattering - stamped into one's memory,
and yet...I can't remember it. It never occurred to me at
all. What does one make of that?
We must be born with an intuition of mortality. Before we
know the words for it, before we know that there are
words...out we come, bloodied and squalling with knowledge
that for all the compasses in the world, there is only ONE
direction, and TIME is its only measure.

Life is a story of revolution.
The central element is the battle to change what's around
you. In the end, you realise that you can't change the
world, you can only change yourself...it's about people who
work all their lives to reach a certain place, only to
discover once they get there, that they're surrounded by
people who want to put them down.

Remember how mum and dad always used to confidently tell
you when you were younger that "You could do ANYthing you
put your mind to"? Well, now that you're older, I can tell
you this...they lied. There's always at least a million
other people better than you...you can't win, don't try.

See if I'm wrong...the odds are against it.

Where have I spawned all this apparent hatred from? Hate is
just an excuse for the lack of love in ones heart...if you
can love something, it's near impossible to hate anything.
That's my problem...
...I've lost the confident,
unconditional love that I let dwell in my heart prior to
this moment. Except given the right moment and
circumstance, chances are I'd do it all over again in a
heartbeat...

...I wish I couldn't have loved him.


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