hello, moment of clarity.
there is one person in the world that i know i can always trust to give it to me straight. he is a person who has always claimed to know me better than i know myself. there is always constant, belly laughter. he is a good one.
he's a big fan of telling me how i live in my own world. we used to laugh about the extremes i'd take it to. i thought my prognosis had improved, and he pointed out two very clear, very hilarious pieces of proof that i'm only deteriorating.
he's so right, you know. i make things harder than they really are. and perhaps anyone could have told me that, but coming from him it's somehow more believable and more meaningful. i can't explain it.
i will read one thing and think i've read another thing. i am like the human version of telephone. what you end up with is never what you started with. something gets lost along the way... i don't do it on purpose. it just happens.
none of this is real. i feel like i've been walking around with saran wrap over my face and i'm just now seeing things clearly. i'm the silliest person i know. i almost want to vomit at how i've been acting/thinking/feeling/etc. i want to delete everything in this diary and start over from scratch. i don't want painful reminders of how stupid i was/am.
so where does you go now from here?
and now that i think about it, he's so right about how no one can be that goddamn happy all the time. it's unhealthy. it IS sickening. i should have gone with my first impression. i'm not a happy-go-lucky person and that's alright. i'm a little bit sarcastic and that's alright.
and it's an ugly realization i've been headed towards for a while: i couldn't stand to be in a room with you. the choirboy thing would get old really fast. and there's more, but that's enough for now.
what a liar.
everybody needs a little more billy in their life. he's like that extra cube of sugar you allow yourself to have, or that extra marshmellow you spear on the edge of your stick before jabbing it into the fire.
he has no idea.