Comfort

She took a step outside into the cold air and drew in her breath. It was cold and crisp. The frost had an edge, and it cut through her lungs like razor blades. She rubbed her mittens together and huffed into them, an attempt to warm the life back into her pink fingertips. Everything was numb, it was of no use. She shuffled onward towards the bus station, dreaming to the soundtrack of crooning heartbroken women.

Excerpts from my mind. I have a writing notebook, but I don't carry it around with me. Which was the point. It's a shame. I will someday, I'll make an effort to.

My Mood

This song inspires me to do better. So much better than I've been doing. It's time to drop the dead weight, what I'm carrying around for the hell of it. I am much better than I make myself to be, if only I make an effort to be so. It's time to make an effort. It feels good to do better, great even. I love this blog for letting me rant, it feels a thousand times better to let it all out.

I'm in the process of writing letters to several people. Some of them mean nothing, and others the world. By 'in the process' I mean that it's all in my head, and here are some rough drafts:

Dear You,

I barely know you. You barely know me. Yet we're doing things, and being together. You are a scatterbrain from what I can tell. You're a nice enough person, but you're lacking something. I don't even like you that much and I'm giving you all of my personality and friendship. I'm being completely open with you, and you turn away from me. This only makes me try harder, I see you as a challenge. You're a prize to me in the sense that once I grasp you and your attention, I will have won my little game. Then I'll be done with you, I'll take what I want from you. I don't want you that badly. I just like feeling loved, and you give me that feeling on occasion. You should know that I'm not to be messed with. I have emotions, strong ones at that. I cannot be your plaything, although there is irony in that statement because I consider you mine. I say all these things, but I treat you the way I do not want to be treated. I just wish you would fall for me already so I could crush you swiftly and walk away. That's how it's going to end up anyway, right? But maybe not, because you're not as open with me as I am with you. I can't change that though, I cannot change you. And I don't want to. Because I barely know you, right?

The point is, well, is there one? There never really are points to my rants. Except to let it all out.

So, as I was saying, do whatever you want. But I won't be there to smile at you through it all. I will not be at your knees praising your words, that train has left the station. I was never in a place to be that person for you anyway. And because i'm not in the right state, this is what happens. You get a rant, I'm devoting a rant to you, and I've known you for less than a month.

Why do you procure such strong emotions from me, you might wonder? Because I am not myself. Because I haven't been for over a month. I don't do this for practically strangers, but don't feel special. You are not special to me. I'm sure you are to other people, but not to me. So take this as you may, except you will not take it as anything. That's because you don't know that this is about you, and you don't even read my blog. No one does really, except me. Only I read it because only I thoroughly understand it. So here's to you, and me laughing straight in your face. Here's to forgetting all about you when I grow up, more so than now.
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A second letter of sorts,


Dear You,

We will grow to be separate. We will grow to be good people, both of us. I will love you, I hope, because I don't want to stop loving you. You will love me, I hope, because I am selfish and I bathe in your love. I don't want to hear about the others, I just want to live in my past with you. I sincerely hope that you grow to be the strongest human being I've ever known, emotionally that is. Mentally even. You will achieve great things, and even if I'm on the sidelines, I hope to be there to watch.
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I need to be alone. Completely alone. Friends may withstand this time period, but only a few. I need to isolate myself, but I never will. That is completely outside of my comfort zone, and I do not have the balls to go there. Have I forgotten everything from this summer? I suppose I have. Rather it's hidden in the back of my mind, teasing me to try it out. But my fear holds me back, and I do not desire to be alone. Eventually it will come to the point where I can do nothing but be alone, because I will have destroyed all possible relationships. Why? Because I was never alone. So I'll be alone, eventually. For now I'll coast along and hope I don't end up somewhere bad, somewhere that I can't come back from.

But again, there's hope. There's light at the end of that tunnel, but what is in the tunnel? Only to be alone will I ever find out what withstands it, and so I'll do it. Maybe I just need a push. And maybe I'll end up pushing myself.