A few nights ago, my host mom Alette told me I was a samaritan; Oddly enough, that is what
I would like to be. Maybe it would work better though if I didn't exist physically, so I didn't have
my own problems, my own demons to deal with. Its not a very good way to put it, but I like hearing
about people's problems. Not out of malice, but out of desire to help the people I care about.
However, its gotten to the point where my own problems are out of my control. I have
trouble sleeping now, and inside my head is a video loop of the past two years with the repeat
button on parts I'd much rather forget. I've already learned that I can't let go of things easily, and the
way that affects me is scary sometimes. For example, this dating I've been doing with a girl I know
is nice, but its very chaste. Too chaste, in fact. I know that I want more (she doesn't, and I respect
that). But, I know that the moment I get into something serious, something physical, I want to run.
I don't want to hurt anyone again, or get hurt because its still tender inside.
This is the part where I admit that I'm a coward.
Before I left for France, I recieved a letter talking about how drastic changes can make mental
conditions worse. I agree, but I didn't come here to escape it, I came here for perspective. I admit
that I have never thought this clearly about a lot of things.
I still wonder though, if perspective is enough. At this moment, I have no clue where to
begin to solve the issues which threaten to cripple me daily. More often than not they manage to,
and I rest mute about my own feelings while holding ontoa positive image so that those who care
doon't worry. Obviously, the facade is cracking.
Maybe the reason I'm not happy is because I haven't felt like I've helped anyone recently,
partly because my own problems are now harder to bury.
Maybe I just need to get a better shovel.
Now, enough with drama. I have enjoyed myself in France, and I apologize if I'm still trying to figure out people's names and they don't know why I have not requested them as a friend. Classes are tough, but I can handle it.
I would like to be. Maybe it would work better though if I didn't exist physically, so I didn't have
my own problems, my own demons to deal with. Its not a very good way to put it, but I like hearing
about people's problems. Not out of malice, but out of desire to help the people I care about.
However, its gotten to the point where my own problems are out of my control. I have
trouble sleeping now, and inside my head is a video loop of the past two years with the repeat
button on parts I'd much rather forget. I've already learned that I can't let go of things easily, and the
way that affects me is scary sometimes. For example, this dating I've been doing with a girl I know
is nice, but its very chaste. Too chaste, in fact. I know that I want more (she doesn't, and I respect
that). But, I know that the moment I get into something serious, something physical, I want to run.
I don't want to hurt anyone again, or get hurt because its still tender inside.
This is the part where I admit that I'm a coward.
Before I left for France, I recieved a letter talking about how drastic changes can make mental
conditions worse. I agree, but I didn't come here to escape it, I came here for perspective. I admit
that I have never thought this clearly about a lot of things.
I still wonder though, if perspective is enough. At this moment, I have no clue where to
begin to solve the issues which threaten to cripple me daily. More often than not they manage to,
and I rest mute about my own feelings while holding ontoa positive image so that those who care
doon't worry. Obviously, the facade is cracking.
Maybe the reason I'm not happy is because I haven't felt like I've helped anyone recently,
partly because my own problems are now harder to bury.
Maybe I just need to get a better shovel.
Now, enough with drama. I have enjoyed myself in France, and I apologize if I'm still trying to figure out people's names and they don't know why I have not requested them as a friend. Classes are tough, but I can handle it.
french_frog:
I was playing upright bass in the luxembourg and you washed my feet with absinth like a samaritan. 
