Thursday, May 19, 2005

Still Sad, Still Lonely

Not every post can be as beautiful as Revenance, Choices, and Gone. This post is not a beauty. I'm still sad, and prone to melancholy; being alone all the time doesn't help. My most common companions are the voices in my head; they're never silent. Even as I write this, they guarantee whatever I write will not solve my loneliness, or show me even a scrap of happiness. I suppose I have no right to be as profoundly unhappy as I am, but my melancholy remains. I don't want to be like this, but it seems the circumstances of my friends, my loved ones, and my disease leave me no other choice. Whichever set of lies fed to me or fractured memory rules my moments, I never seem to have peace. Mostly, I don't see any reason to talk or post about it, either. Next to nobody reads, fewer understand, and the rest almost always find ways to do or say nothing. I don't bear false witness, but my memories betray me; I'm left with little confidence in myself to find or tell the truth. The contributing liars and decievers in my life add nothing but confusion and pain. From those that struck me in my memories, but refuse to acknowlege it now, I gain doubt and solitude (not my brother, Gary. He's one of the only people who shoots straight with me these days). From those that never tell the same story twice about my pain and their part in it, I gain sadness and confusion. I check my notes; I have memories that cannot be true. Every time you lie to me, change your story, or decide to mislead me to avoid blame, assuage my judgement, make yourself feel more comfortable about your role in my turmoil, or any other reason, I get worse. I cannot trust my memories, but please don't make the problem any worse than it has to be. Prester Bane makes a prediction: this post will change nothing.

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