I guess it must not really be new...

I keep thinking I just suddenly became this way... forgetting over and over... Forgetting I forget. I make the same mistakes, and I know it's necessary, but will it be the death of me?
    5/2010
"...but my intention never was to hurt her. I've never intentionally acted specifically for the sake of hurting people sadistically in my life. Especially not those I love... I don't trust myself, however. I'm so self-absorbed all the time, how could I possibly show real love? I'm just an inconsiderate moron, so wound up in their own affairs that they don't even notice themself becoming the very things they so strongly strive to oppose. What would she prefer? Me being honest, or me being a good friend? How could she appreciate and love something so disgraceful when everybody else (including its resident) would disown it? I know she is pure, kind and strong, yet... what would it mean to hope for love in return or to ask for it? I think it's wrong... selfish, despite its honesty... or maybe I've been wrong all along. I need to sleep. I need help from my dreams."

Why do I end up back there so frequently? I can see how deeply woven into my internal concept this motif is... very much at the core.

5/2010
"I know I must forgive her, them, us... So I'll pray. It will be a prayer of utmost sincerity... They couldn't have known what it meant... It's not their fault... It's a fault of the process; the negative that must exist for there to be love... for there to be love... I will be proactive... One day they will learn, and though it does not bring me comfort to think that they will suffer, too... I know they must learn their own lessons, just like I must... Yeah, that irony smarts a bit, but I just need to laugh it off."

This was over 2 years ago... both of these entries...

5/2010
"There's really nothing anybody could do about my feelings (or lack thereof), but Pat said I should not isolate myself because it gives no positive memories to draw strength or hope from, but...
I don't personally feel love, don't truly know any reason to fight for it, and it's like never even existed. Nobody could make me remember then, and all I know is pain. All I knew was the pain of ours that they wouldn't even know..."

...and yet another,
"Meh, Sara says they do care.
Sara contradicts herself with her own words.
Sara doesn't see the irony of being objective.
Sara couldn't know in this way, I shouldn't blame her.
So who is at fault, if anybody?
Aren't I the judgmental one?
In what strange universe am I superior?
In what deranged mindset am I different?
I fear this is all I could ever know to think,
I'm scared there's no purpose in learning."

I wrote so many poems...

"Nothing
there is nothing
that could help it
there is nothing I lack
nothing I need
nothing I want
but I'm still here

I don't even want to think about it
I want to not think

I don't want to do anything
which means I want to do nothing
and when I say I don't want it, it really means
I want to not want"