05-19-05 @ 9:15 am EDT

Copied & edited from HOMH.

I should be working on my TAC checking (I'm jotting notes on each character from each chapter, much belated, in an attempt to compile a character listing with details--on Pt. 16 so far -_- ), but I should write something more substantial in here than just the same old. The truth is, I feel stupid and ashamed posting in here anymore. This is a hurt I just can't seem to get over, and I doubt I will. I had really thought that five years meant more than that, and that I at least deserved a reason why, or at the very least, a telling off. I honestly do not know what I did wrong, unless merely trusting someone's word was again the wrong thing to do. It kills me inside that the last words said to me were that everything was okay, when obviously it wasn't. Why would I be told that, twice, if it wasn't true? Why don't I deserve at least a reason? The only thing I did was believed this person when they called me friend and said I would hear back soon, and that everything was okay. I have to skip past the Preferred section of the online users list now lest I see him there, yet this past Sunday I was moving some mail in my mailbox, and there I accidentally saw it, his envelope lit up on one of the last mails he sent me, showing him online. And it hurt as much as it did before. I couldn't stop crying the rest of the day...I'm starting to cry now, and I hadn't even intended to write this. I don't understand how for five years I was considered a friend, and worth caring about, and then in the blink of an eye, once I'd finally believed all of this, I'm not even worth a goodbye. Why can I not at the least be told why? I thought I did everything right. I thought I was a friend.

I feel so foolish and ashamed of all the stationery I purchased, believing I would be writing to him on it... The gift book I made him in the hopes it would open communication again...he said he liked it, but only after I asked him, and now I know how junky and pathetic it really was--I can't even post a picture of it now, I feel so stupid for having made it and I wish I'd never wasted the paper and stuff...I feel so stupid for every single other thing I ever did concerning him. So stupid that I believed all of it. That's the only thing that makes any sense, that he never meant a word of it...if so then he truly had me fooled. No one else could carry on an act so long, and pretend to be so interested in me. I'm so stupid that only that can be the reason why. -_- Otherwise it means he did mean all of it, but then in one moment he decided he didn't mean it anymore and won't even say why. The only way I can keep from believing myself an utterly worthless person is to believe that he never meant a word of it. And that just means that instead I am the world's biggest fool yet again, and I can never trust a word anyone says. Both thoughts hurt me so much. But one leaves the tiniest hope that it is not all my fault. But still, I'm a stupid idiot whichever one it is, I can't trust anyone no matter how nice they may be, and I can't get over this.

In the one case, nobody ever means it if they say they like me, and I can never trust anybody, no matter how lonely I am--I'm not worthy of real friends. In the other case, everybody who calls me friend will abruptly stop caring about me for no reason whatsoever someday--I'm not worthy of their friendship anymore. I lose no matter what it is. I hurt no matter what it is, and no matter what it is, I'm worthless as a friend.

And it just reinforces (sic?) my belief that my work means absolutely nothing. Even friendly comments, people who insist they've been reading my work, mostly ring hollow, and those that don't, all I can do is fear the day they will stop coming, too. If I can lose somebody after five years with no word why then who can possibly enjoy my work for long? He lasted the longest. No one else has lasted even a year before forgetting about me completely. Aside from the one who harassed me for a year, and one who I practically had to harass, I never learned why from any of them.

No matter how much attention I might get--even if a hundred people were to tell me how much they like my writing--it will never be enough. I wanted to think I would be happy with at least a few readers, but it's not happening. Everything I do continues to feel worthless and empty. I get a friendly comment, I enjoy/appreciate it, but my brain is telling me at the same time that they don't really mean it, and most of the time, aside from a passing interest, I know it's true. (Why should I believe it's worth anything when I keep losing the people who care about it?) I wanted to believe that as long as I could entertain just a few people, I'd be happy, and I'd be doing something worthwhile, no matter how small. But I'm not happy, I'm not proud of anything I've done (look how long interest lasts!), and none of it feels worthwhile. So I distract a few people for a few minutes with +20kb of my drek. So what? If I were not here, someone else would be doing the job, much better than I ever could. I'm not doing a single thing that someone else couldn't do a whole lot better. I've never changed one thing for the better, and I've never made any impact that matters. All I've ever done is waste people's time on my writing when they could have been doing something more useful. If I were to vanish tomorrow, aside from a brief question or two, people would hardly notice, and the world would go on, likely better than it had with me. I have never made a mark for myself and I never will.

You know, after watching Law & Order: Special Victims Unit the ohter night, I've actually started contemplating organ donation. I've never really done so before, since I want to be buried with everything I came into the world with--even embalming horrifies me. (Draining my blood and filling me with chemicals? Sewing my eyes shut? Sticking wadding in my orifices...?) I don't want to be cut apart, and I don't want my fat ugly body lying on some slab while med students stand around cutting into my muscles like I'm a preserved frog. I just want to die, hopefully soon (an embolism as I sleep, maybe from a bruise, or perhaps a brain aneurysm, would be good), and then just be buried, maybe with some of the things I loved. My pictures, my stories (which I do not much love anymore, but still...), my blanket, some leaves, some tea, a rock from Mackinac Island... I do not REALLY believe I will make any use of them, and I do not REALLY believe the absence of any body parts will make any difference once I'm dead...but the thought fills me with dread anyway. I'm already less than a person. I don't want to be even more less of one.

Still...if a kidney or something could save somebody's life, the life of somebody a lot better than me, then maybe I would have at last done something? I'm never going to accomplish anything, or make any difference, as I live...maybe I could do one little thing after I'm dead. Even this makes me cry, that all it would take is my DEATH before I could do anything worthwhile, and that it would really be the person I SAVED making a difference when I want to make a difference MYSELF, but it's the only use I could ever think of for my waste of a person...giving somebody who does matter a kidney, or something else, so they can make a difference. -_- Though with the way I am, I bet even that wouldn't pan out...I'm the most common blood type, and my health and diet are not the best, so I bet even my kidneys and everything else inside me is bad...I wouldn't be surprised.

I do not even understand why I was born, and why I won't die. Some people advised me to find something to be thankful for, to give me some reason to live. So far that's the most useful advice I've been given, yet it still doesn't help. I have plenty of things to feel thankful for--the island, trees, Cosmas, photographs, writing (such as it is), walking, warm weather, 'Bozho and 'Basso, thunderstorms, generally okay physical health, a house, food, music, mythology, birds, memories, turtles, my imagination--and I do feel thankful. The problem is, I feel I have NO RIGHT TO EXIST, unless I should contribute something worthwhile to the world myself. I have not done this and never will. I should not even be here to be thankful for anything. So why am I here? I feel literally like my only purpose in life is to hurt. And that is no purpose, it's a punishment. What did I do wrong? Even God sits with His envelope lit up yet never gives answers. I wake up every day, hurt, and go to bed hurting, only to wake up hurting yet again the next day--the things I'm thankful for offering respite only now and then between all the hurting, and not helping at all when I'm hurting again. I just wish I did not exist, since I hate being a waste. Yet I'm too chicken to end it myself.

It's sad that my greatest hope is that I do not live to be forty. I do not want to live so long. I'm 28, and I do not want to look forward to a lifetime of this. It's hurt too much as it is and I've never grown any stronger from it, just more hopeless. I hope I die before then, before my parents, so I will no longer be a burden on anyone, and so at least I will not have to die on my own.

Unrelated aside, do you know what I would REALLY like to happen to me after I die...? I would like to be cremated (the only instance in which I would prefer this), and my ashes scattered in Cave of the Woods. I know, the Park Commission would never allow it...but at least then I would be in a place that I love, near the one thing that has never let me down in life. Remember how I cried when I found the cave last year, after having thought it was gone forever? All I had on me was bottled water and I poured it on the floor of the cave to thank it just for still being there. That cave did more by just existing than all the people who told me I was their friend and then vanished; at least it's still there. It's been there for thousands of years. It'll probably be there long after I die--I hope it will. If I were put there, I could be a part of one of the few things I feel close to and one of the few things that inspired me so much, even with as useless as my work turned out to be...and you know, the island is worthwhile to a lot of other people, too. I would be a part of something worthwhile, even if nobody ever knew. At least that would be one small thing.

I should look a bit more into organ donation, just in case...