2009-12-21 - 12:34 a.m.
Will you still love me
When I get back to town?
It's funny how these old feelings
You think they're gone, no no
They just go underground.
Hey, diaryland. When I started up here, I was trapped in a situation that I couldn't stand and didn't know how to cope with and I needed so badly to spill my guts to someone, and you were safe to talk to because you were all anonymous and strange. Then you stopped being anonymous, which was wonderful and then it scared me off again. I think I scare too easily, but there it is. It is what it is.
Anyway, here I am, all these years later, and I'm trapped in a situation I can't stand and I need to talk, and I'm wondering if this is a place I can come back to. I don't know. I suspect that... a lot of what scared me off of this place has moved on.
I like honesty. There's something so wonderful and cleansing about, well, coming clean. Getting all the mud and blood and dirt out, out on the "page", such as it is, out where I can look at it and not hate it or fear it or writhe around trying to hide from it, but just... look at it, be with it, get to know it. So I can say, my childhood was a fucking trainwreck, I've wasted huge swathes of my life, I've treated people I love badly, I've let people exploit me because it was easier just to let it happen, that I get inappropriately angry, that I hate people I shouldn't hate, that I hate myself, sometimes, for some stupid thing I did or said years ago, sometimes decades ago, I can put it all out there and look at it and it's OK. I mean, it's not great. If I were choosing lives out of a life-chocolate-box, I would probably pick the peppermint instead of this, but I don't hate it. I'll take what I've been given.
But, there's something about the way other people take your honesty, I guess. They offer you pity, or fake pity, I'm not sure which is worse, false consolations or advice or insight or something else again... it's so hard to resist a "natural" interpretation of things, you know? I go through periods of unemployment, which is fine with me since I earn enough when I am employed, and I like the time and the space and the calm, but it's so natural for other people to make you something pitiable when you're unemployed and what can you do with that... polite poisoning? When Sartre talks about other people fucking up his park for him, by walking around in it looking at it, I think a lot of people take it for melodrama or for... a sort of hypothetical story, you know, this is what it would be like if you saw things this way... but people wander into the facts of your life, with the same cavalier, careless attitude of the stranger in the park, looking at the grass, sitting on the benches, just observing it but turning it into something else by the way they look at it.
"Don't look at the grass". That would be a funny sign.
Anyway, yeah. Here I am again. We'll see. I might only need a little taste of honesty, for a few minutes or a few days. Or I might be around for a while. And I guess I'll find out if I... end up retreating into crypticisms, or blurting like a guilty drunkard, or just ghosting away again, back into the real world.