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Honestly, what do you title a journal?
It's just a bunch of whine-text anyways. I have a journal because I can say what I need to say without having to worry about repercussion, because no one reads it anyways!
And frankly, I don't blame them.
So. I've been thinking again. Or, rather, I've been letting my thoughts gnaw at me until they just can't contain themselves and spill out of my mind like a flood through a broken levee. They spill out of my mind in the form of words, in this journal, that no one in their right mind should read. Hasty, unthoughtful, words. Ironic, considering that the unthoughtful flood of words is born via the build-up of contemplation... Of self-reflection... Of thought. I've read some things over the last week that have opened my eyes a bit. While I realize that this eye-opening may not change me... It is a start.

Growing up... All I had learned to do was hate. It is truthfully all I know how to do. It's not because of a need to be better than someone else. It's not because they are different from myself. It is simply because it is all I know how to do. I never learned what it was like to love, or to be loved. Is that my parents' fault? Partially. They could've stood to fight less, or to shield their child from their bullshit. It wasn't my fault that I was brought into that world, I never asked to be. It would be a lie if I said I didn't hold some sort of resentment towards my parents for all of the things I go through now. For what they instilled in me. For my intense fear of abandonment but very intense desire to be alone. For all of the hatred and hurt that I just bottle inside of me. For my inability to comprehend death, and my inability to make connections with others; real connections.

All of the people that are in my life, which honestly there are very few who could ever make a difference in it, probably feel like they're connected to me somehow. But that simply isn't true. They all want to believe that they can make a difference for me, of that i'm sure. But again, that simply isn't true. If I made the decision to kill myself tonight, none of them would be able to stop me. They think they can. And me telling them that they can't insults them, which is something I don't understand. They think that I don't care about them, and somehow the situation changes and attention shifts away from the person trying to kill himself.

Here is some advice. If I ever am trying to kill myself, and I feel like no one in the world cares about what happens to me... Don't get insulted when I reject your "but I care, I love you" words. Of course i'm going to reject that. I'm backed into an emotional corner. I feel alone. And a few hollow words won't change that. A few shallow words coming from someone who otherwise gives no indication that they care whatsoever will not change how I feel. And frankly, i'm insulted that you could ever even think to be insulted over a rejection of such trivial words.

If you're a person who does this... You should be ashamed of yourself. There is a person, be it me or someone else in the world, who feels so alone that they want to die... And here you are getting all upset over a few little words and trying to make the situation about you. Do you think that that's going to somehow make them not suidical? Of course it wouldn't, and you're stupid if you think it would. If you truly care about them and their well-being, of course all of the attention needs to be focused on the person that's crying out for it.

Because that's what talking about suicide is. It is a test, to see who is paying attention. To see who really cares. To see who will really help, or even just try to help. And if you think that making them feel guilty over their rejection of your pitiful "but I care" words... All you are doing is making them feel worse, and making them want to die even more. Because in guilt-tripping them like that, all you're doing is bringing up thoughts of their failures. Highlighting them and making that person think that all they can do is fail. Making them think the world, including you, would be better off without them.

So way to go, good job getting them to kill themself because you're pretty much sealing the decision when you act like that.

Okay. So that was a tangent that was completely off of my original thought topic, but it still needed to be said. Circling back to those connections I talked about, or rather the lack thereof... If you are one of my friends reading this, I probably have no connection to you. When I have my emotional, suicidal moments... Do I think of you? Probably not. That doesn't mean that i'm not your friend. It doesn't mean that I don't care about you. It doesn't make you any less my friend and I hope it doesn't make me any less yours. It doesn't mean I wouldn't still throw myself in front of a bus for you.

But, think about it. Out of all of the friends you have... Am I your best friend? Am I the one person in the world that you really love the most? Do I come in on your list of top ten people? Top twenty? Do you even know my name? Do we talk, all the time, every day? Once a week? ...Once a month even? The answers to those questions are probably all, or mostly, No. With that said... Do you have a connection to me? A real one? A meaningful one? That's probably no too. So, is it really that offensive for me to say I have no connection to someone who I could probably better call an acquaintence rather than a friend?

How about for those who could answer the aforementioned questions with Yes? I probably also have no connection to you. Offended yet? Probably. You shouldn't be, because it really has nothing to do with you and everything to do with me. In case you haven't postulated it yet, the connections I speak of are profound and intangible. The connections that keep drawing you back to that other person, and you never truthfully let your relationship with them decay. Do you remember the best friend you had back in middle school? In elementary? They may be the same person... But chances are, you probably don't even talk to them anymore. That doesn't mean you weren't connected to them, but rather that the connection only lasted for as long as you both needed it. Once you didn't need each other, the connection was somehow severed, and you both moved on. The connection to which i'm referring is so much stronger than that. It can transcend time. It can transcend everything. And I don't share that but with maybe two or three persons.

Yes... I would say four, actually. Possibly. Two of those connections I share with my mother and sister, two of the most important people in my life, even if I don't see either of them that much. I don't know how valid those connections are. The thought of losing them to Old Man Death drives me mad, it's something I can't even comprehend. But the thought of never actually speaking to them or seeing them has never actually bothered me. Knowing that they're alive is fine, but knowing of their death is something that would drive me over the edge. And I don't know what that means. One of the other people that I think I might share that connection with is the person whom I can call my best friend. Sometimes we fight, most of the time we get along... We're very different but we're also very alike. I had a lot of problems to sift through, and I stopped talking to her because of it. I stopped talking to everyone unbiasedly... But I stopped talking to her as well. But somehow... Something brought me back to her. And I think it was that intangible connection. An unspoken understanding and I dare to say trust. Either way, it brought me back to her and while sometimes I might wonder why, in the end... I'm glad it did.

And then there's the fourth person, the person that i'm sure I share this connection with. That is the person that I made the mistake of falling in love with. I wonder if the connection is what I could call love, and I wonder if I even fell in love at all. At first, it might have been infatuation. But, I have experienced that, and it's not quite the same... It wares off very quickly and leaves no lasting effect. It could possibly be obsession, since it has been years since we've been together and I still think of him every day, multiple times per day. But... When people are obsessed, don't they stalk and do creepy things? While I admit some of the things I do may be creepy, I don't think it's that bad... Either way, the connection I have to him just keeps drawing me back. Drawing my mind back. Drawing my heart back. It holds me back. It keeps me from leaving this place for fear that I may never see him again. That I may never have the chance to say the things I should've said all along.

But when I think about it...I feel like perhaps it is just the illusion of love, much like described in parts of David P. Celani's 1994 book by the same title, "The Illusion Of Love." When I think about the things in the past... I realize that the person I think I love has really never done any good. Not for me, and not for anyone else that I have seen. That may not be true and i'm probably not one to talk, but the thought still gnaws at me. If by some chance, I were to say how I feel outside of this text, and he were to reciprocate that... What good would it do? I would feel ignored and neglected and he would feel smothered, just like it was before. I realized some things. Some of what I read and some of that eye opening I did, it made me realize how... Intolerant I am.

There are things that he does and says, and people that he hangs out with that just... They just rub me the wrong way. I just can't tolerate them. I try my very best but it's just something I struggle with so much. Things that I find morally wrong. It's not because of my belief system, or lack thereof... No one gave me my morals but me; I gave me my morals. My experiences gave me my morals. It's a natural reaction to dislike something or someone that goes against what you stand for. It's easy. And what I finally understand is that taking the hard road is better. There are things that I do that people probably find immoral. There are things that we all do that someone, somewhere doesn't like. And while that doesn't mean that i'm going to suddenly like it and be okay with it... Being able to tolerate it is eally something special. Something that I need to learn to do. I don't think it could fix our relationship... But it's at least a start. And while there's probably nothing that I could say that could get him to love me... The knowlegde that I can at least try, it helps. It might not fix him or me or us or anyone... But it's at least a step in the right direction. I just wish I knew how to tell him that.

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