She said: You're A Massochist For Falling For Me.

I used to just walk around - in a daze, like nothing ever really mattered. I used to just sit and stare and wonder without ever producing any results. I used to take the matters of life and death similiarly, and very lightly. I used to be unable - no, incapable, of distinguishing the meaning of anything beyond the day to day monotonany of indecision. I wasn't living. I was just being.

I don't think what I am is called being sick - even if that is what everybody says. I don't think that is it, because it is something I do to myself. And I don't let anybody understand because I don't want anybody to understand. And I don't talk about it out loud to anybody because I don't want to have to explain it to anybody. And I don't want anybody to ask questions. But I think I need somebody to ask something. Because the same reason I do it is the same reason I don't want to.

I am not an unhappy person. I just feel like there is such a thick barrier covering up that happiness that nobody can see it. I think sometimes I forget to see it myself. But I see it now. And I want others to see it, too.

I tried it your way, but I got nothing to show.

I like Little Jackie and I normally don't like this type of musica.

So she took another step, said I see the way out and I'm gonna take it.

You know, I was going to write in this. But I think I am tired of not spilling my guts in an online journal.


Continued some other time, I guess.