Oh, they were trying to help. And I was just being my stupid-stubborn-self. I don't know what it is. It's like being useless, or temporary. I know, I've said this before, but it's like being some kind of temporary (oh what's that word?)...well, being temporary. It's like not meaning anything to anyone. And even if I do, I don't understand why. It feels as if any moment I'm going to be usurped by someone, oh nicer, prettier, more intelligent, generally a nicer person...who fits more exactly their 'ideal'. The idea of an 'ideal' is something I've only recently begun to subscribe to. That, you don't love a person, it's only this ideal, and the only reason you can't is because all the people you tried to fit disappointed you. That happens a lot, getting disappointed by people. I'm sure I disappoint everyone. There's so many people I want to....well I don't know, impress? I don't know if that's the right word. You know, when you get that feeling? When you meet someone, anyone, regardless, you just er (gah, clich�) click (cringe) or something, you like them so much despite only having known a little, if at all. That thing. You know? Surely it's not just me? Oh well. There's so many people I want to be so much better friends with (I suppose) and I just...can't seem to. Whenever anyone does like me, it sets off this track in my brain, this train of thought e.g., Why on earth do they want to know me? What is it? I'm far too dull/ugly/stupid/unworthy....that kind of thing. This may be stupid, but hey, it's what happens. Even if, as before, I might possibly find someone who slightly resembles my 'ideal', generally what happens is that it lasts a while, a short time, and then they go off. It tails off, not because I want it to, generally they find someone better. This was the thing that kind of sparked off this insane paranoia. That I'm only a temporary distraction. But, as I discussed with my Witteree, who was lovely, and put up with all my confused-self-obsessed-witterings and attempted to help (thankies), at least this gives one the air of some kind of tragic, romantic, heroine. I don't mind that, it's all they crying, and depressive type tendancies and uselessness of it all that gets to me. I'm sorry, to moan so much, and be so hideously self-obsessed, but this is what lives in my head. Apart from pheasants. And the filing cabinets.

I am a temporary distraction though, that's all.

Feeling:
Listening to:
Pretending:

last * next