One

Life of One
2001-10-05 06:08:32 (UTC)

Crossing over...

No, the crossing over is not anything of a monumental sort,
so the topic may have deceived you. Rather, it is simply a
reference to the fact that, until now, I expressed my
thoughts and feelings in a similar site at
http://www.hatelife.org, which has apparently gone kaput.
As far as I know, if you attempt to visit it, nothing will
load at all.

Unfortunately for me, the short time that I used it got me
rather addicted to the concept of at least some people
seeing that which causes me sorrow, instead of bottling it
up forever. Thus, upon its disappearance, instead of doing
the wise thing and never trying to do such a potentially
harmful thing again, I have found another fix; this diary
site.

Some quick background is required. I originally fully
explicated my sad story, but I haven't the patience for it
right now; that isn't what I'm here to write about. So.
The short version is that I fell in love, had it returned,
was dumped, but meant it. The only odd part of this story
is the last. My love is not the disgusting-to-me, shallow,
evanescent 'love' that seems to be nearly omnipresent
today. Thus, despite being dumped, I remain dedicated to
her...and no, I'm not stalking her, or anything in that
vein. We are friends, yet. She is aware of my continued
feeling. She says that nothing can come of it, that I
ought simply to forget about her, but...*shrugs* It would
not be fitting. For a bit of additional information,
that's rather important...she has gone away to college, and
I am able to communicate with her only through the
internet. Sigh.

Regardless. Today, after a rather painful long dearth of
communication, I was able to talk to her for a few sweet
moments. She was depressed, as she generally is...for
whatever reason, I have always felt an attraction towards
girls with a depth of inner turmoil, and most particularly
her. I do hope that there is nothing secretly sinister
behind that. *frowns* It sounds almost like there could
be. Perhaps it's related to my desire to help
people...that would be much more pleasant. In any
event...geh. I don't know. There's something bad going on
in her life, I can feel that, but she didn't tell me what
it was. What can I do, how can I offer even a hint of
comfort if she won't tell me? That is, you see, a major
problem I have had with her...I am, in a grand sense, a
seeker of information, with a vast desire to comprehend the
universe. The motives of others are generally transparent
to me, and when they are not, I strive to determine them
and am usually successful. But she, she is the lead to my
X-ray vision, so to speak. She is always opaque to me.
Even to this moment, I am somewhat uncertain as to just why
she dumped me, why I was not good enough. She will not
tell me, despite my pleading that she do just that.
Rambling, rambling...I suppose that's appropriate, there's
a good deal that you, the reader, cannot know, and in this
diary you cannot look back to find out all of what I am
referencing.

Bah. I will cut it short. I, too, am depressed, for I am
terribly alone...for the love I thought I had, slipped
away. "For who would bear the whips and scorns of time,
the oppressor's wrong, the proud man's contumely, the pangs
of disprized love, the law's delay, the insolence of
office, and the spurns that patient merit of the unworthy
takes, when he himself might his quietus make with a bare
bodkin?"