This is what it's like, to slide down a slope. Everything feels so pointless. There are brief moments of buoyancy but they disappear quickly enough. It's as if I don't have any control.
Wait.
I don't have any fucking control.
It isn't an illusion, it's real enough.
All of a sudden, I want to be by myself, or with someone who understands me. And I think I find them, and then I feel them fall short.
Of course, they haven't fallen short, it's just me. Because I some fucking problem with other people. I don't want to see them, to hear them, to have be with them. But then when I get what I want, when I get my own selfish spoilt way, I'm never satisfied. I'm never satisfied, it's my fault though, I know that. But I can't seem to do anything.
Maybe because I don't have any control, whoch is wrong. Maybe because I feel like I'm pointless, that's it worthless. I don't mean anything. I think I did before. I think I think I did. But I know either I do, or I never have meant anything.
That any principles, any integrity, anything admirable or worthy disappeared. Then I think; do I think that because they left too? Do I really value them that much, place them in such high esteem, or is it only because everyone else seems to? I don't think I do anymore.....it's not them....it's the idea.
The idea....the ideal
the ideal they introduced....not introduced. No, well, they realised it didn't they? Before them it didn't even seem possible. Not remotely possible, and then they came along and it was perfect. I say perfect, it looks perfect when I remember it.
Then you look closer, focus in.
I can only focus in on one side of the story, it's why it's not a film, it's not even a story. Because I can't see it all.
If you look closer, you can see all the unfinished conversations, all the difficult questions I couldn't answer, all the silly things that seemed to mean so much, and were made so much of.
How they got carried away, and then how they got angry at me.
Then how they came on first thing in the morning just to say sorry.
And everytime they came on, even when it wasn't really them, they'd say hello and tell you how much you meant to them.
And how the shadows under my eyes came from our silly conversations about the future, and each promising that we wouldn't change, well we did..and from things you'd forgotten to say. And then they came from crying when I thought you'd forgotten me. And then, of course, you did. Like you always do. Or so they tell me.
Or so they tell me. I believe that. I always did, despite what you may think. I did listen to them. I didn't believe everything you said, I know I didn't. But I still fell for it. I thought you did too, I really thought you did, hey perhaps you're a better actor than you make out. I thought it really affected you, that it meant a lot to you, but I must have been wrong. I just wish I knew. I wish I knew exactly how much, just so I can ....well, I don't know really..not feel stupid? No, no, I still don't know though. I just want to know, that it all...meant something, I suppose, that if it was possible for me to be part of something like that once, hey maybe it could happen again.
Because even though I say, while it was happening, I thought it was pretty perfect, of course it wasn't. But maybe it was just not for me....I don't suppose that I was meant to be. But I did want it to be. I still missed things, but I've covered that (you poor dears, having to listen to this!)
I just read what I've written above, and it could read so many different ways. Oh well, make what you want of it.
Somewhere there's a really small part of me (near my knee, I think) that thinks I still make a difference, perhaps. But then the Elinor in me says - the part everyone calls 'sensible' bleurgh - that, actually knows that, all I do now is make you feel guilty. Still that's kinda fun....
hey,I'm a bitch really,
I did tell you this.
Feeling:
Listening to:
Pretending: