Betrayal






October 5th, 1999

Apparently the new trend of the year is character profiles. I have had 3 done on me, all which determine my personality. Do they honestly think that 20 questions can explore the depth of your character, and then determine that hey, your a Type 4? It's as if there is this need to disect everything...then they gather up all the pieces and package it up into this one nice bundle topped with a pretty red fucking ribbon. Society is great.

The world has turned in the months that have passed since I last wrote. But I'm tired...mentally fatigued...oppressed..It's like living in a house with a hundred people, and trying to figure out which mask to wear with each of them.

I'm running fast,
can't hide the past...
Your pushing me.
-Natalie Imbruglia

I lost a very good friend. He kept calling my name awhile ago...kept looking for me...but I hid and refused to answer. I saw it as pressure, as pushing...I cut him out of my life, and now, as always, I regret it.


I also faced the harsh reality of my ex-boyfriend, forever love which has turned sour. I have this picture in my head of how things are, and why people act like they do...I say to myself, "I watch people, and I understand people, and it's too bad nobody else takes the time to see what I see." Someone came along and popped my bubble so that I could see reality...at least in that particular situation. "I know him like the back of my hand." That was my favorite line when describing him. I knew why he was being a jerk, or why he hadnt called yet...I truly believed he could do no wrong. How could the man uttering "I love you, you make me feel something no one else could even touch" turn around and be so vile, be so hypocritical? Easily...I just didn't want to see it. And now, I remain as critical, wary, and pessimistic about any man I have met since.


My other ex decided to wander back into my life again. We had rekindled a friendship...so I thought. He met me at a local bar, and every signal he gave me shouted, "I want you back". He came back with me that night and left the next day. We have talked once since then. It's been three weeks...we live 5 minutes away... he's on campus more often than not. Wishful thinking.
My writing is horrible now... to tidy things up into one nice package, I'm trying to say this: There are not too many men that I care about as deeply as I did them, and although I had only hoped things would work out, I knew that just like the rest of them, they would disapoint me.

It's gotten colder out...





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So this is where my fine poetry has got me, led me to madness and the men who made me"- Jim Morrison


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