fantasticaaron

I was going through some old papers and I found this thing I wrote while drinking coffee far too late at night about a year ago. Some things don't change....


It's really strange how people have to fight to get close to me. Not fight wind resistance, or other people or something of matter. They have to fight me. Not just fight the me that they see, but the me I have repressed for years and years. Someone getting close to me forces me to injure myself, not just mentally but physically. Solitude is all I have known for so long that I can't make myself feel anything, open up to those who want to get close to me, make an attempt to be, well, me. The natural me. The me that shows when I don't fear people, the air, sleeping, everything in my life. I keep praying for an end, no matter how it should come. The ony problem is that i'm too tired from years of fear and repression to produce an end myself. My life is meaningless. I feel like I even fail at the most basic of life's tasks. I actually told someone today, someone that I am apparently fighting to keep away, that I thought I'd be dead in the next 2 years. What the fuck in that supposed to mean? Do I expect that? I'm sick of feeling pain, yet it is the only constant in my life....