Monday, September 7, 2009

I start by saying, I don't feel sorry for myself. And I don't feel sorry for you.

I feel sorry that I can't reconcile this. That I can come to terms with almost everything in my life except for this. I can reunite with everyone else, I can think, with a clear head about my next steps, about my hopes and my desires. That I can make friends and keep them. That I can try something different and that I can be alone.

But I cannot close this. I cannot speak to anyone the same way, feel comfortable with anyone else the same way. I cannot stop thinking about it, and cannot understand why it was the only thing that made me feel real, and outside of myself. That besides then, I have not once in my life felt unselfishly sad. A type of sad that has yet to exist inside of me again, one that hit me so deeply inside of my heart that it could not escape me. Instead it sat in the pit of my stomach replacing food, replacing reality. My literal hunger was replaced with a driven, sad calm.

There are many things to be said.

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