2005-05-23 @ 12:12 p.m. There is little said here that I don't understand. A few sentences here and there meant for someone that will never see. It's a way of release, the words I write here, and yet lately they are picked apart and misunderstood.
There is no real way to explain myself, to desconstruct all that is cryptic within. It's what I feel, it's what I know, it's how my life has turned for the better..or worse..that alone is up to interpretation.
I don't want to have to tip-toe around the issues in my life. I think it's cryptic enough, making just enough sense that I will understand, and that should be enough. I shouldn't have to battle with daily inquisitions as to what I am writing and who I am writing about. It's all for me, all of it, because the intended audience will never ever come here; this I am certain of.
Allow me this release, I beg of you, without the dramatics and hysterics. Don't question my words, accept them as fact and move on. Think of it as fiction..a book you can always put down or skim through. It's not a diary for you, it's for me. I don't write for hundreds, I don't try to make this into screams for attention. I write because if I don't? I will go insane. I am sure of it.
I see how some manipulate their words to gain attention, and when it's not received they manipulate some more. I can't play that game, I won't play that game. This is my life, these are my thoughts, mine, intended for no one other than myself. Why is that so difficult to comprehend?
Take comfort here, or find fascination here, but don't take everything so fucking personal. Why would I fill this place I call my own with words meant for you? Have I been that dishonest? Or is it part of the manipulation game yet again? As I said before, I refuse to play. Move on. Unless you can honestly read my words and understand without trying to distort things, move on.
I distort them enough for myself. I don't need help and wrongful accusations.
My Past with No Future