Tirade of Thought

I'm angry because she's not here.
I'm angry because there's no reason she should be here.
I'm angry because I'm angry, if you follow my sense.

I'm scared...
I'm scared that she'll be done with me utterly.
I'm scared that she'll leave in truth.
I'm scared that I'm the one to push her away.

I'm conflicted.
I'm confused.
I'm frustrated.
I'm tired.
I'm lonely.

I don't like the silence. I don't like saying things and never hearing a response. I don't like wishing I knew. I don't like not knowing how to get in touch with her, and I don't like dumping myself here. Not because I feel I'm dumping myself upon the poor readers, but because what I really want to do is to sit and talk with her. Because I still know that'll make me feel better, and I know that I'll never know anything until we sit down and talk. And if I'm just left here to stew in my own despair, I'm going to say something I don't intend.
And because I just miss her.

I'm scared sometimes... I'm afraid that there's no one out there for me. That I'm wired wrong. That non-religious girls won't like the religious side of me, and religious girls won't like the non-religious side of me. I get frustrated that I have all this affection and devotion to give, and no one wants it from me. I get scared that, really, no one cares.

And I worry that, somewhere, someone thinks this is their fault. And it's really not.

( How I think. )

( How I feel. )

(no subject)

Wow, it's after 11:00, and neither Dustin nor David are here, yet. Rommel, Sulyeman, Frank, and TheNewGuy are all here, though. Place feels empty, though, being the only one in the room...

The moon was profound...

You know, today was strikingly beautiful. I mean really beautiful. that's something that's always hit me as off about this journal, or perhapse how I use it. You don't see all the sides. you see one facet, and most often the darkest one at that. I go to this journal, for the most part, when, well, I need it. And it rather makes sense. But this Journal is at least in great part meant to... explain me, perhapse. To show who I am. It seems to me that many times I'm such a goof in person that people miss the rest of me. Or something...

Anyways, though, that's the thing: As down as I may sound from time to time, I'm never as bad as I make myself out to me. I am happy a lot of the time. I do look up at the bright, blue sky with scattered fluffy clouds with wondrous awe. I do sit in contemplative silence staring out over the vast green sea that the trees around here form. I drive down the road with the window rolled down, reveling in my freedom, and I smile. You won't see that, usually, on this journal. Or, at the very least, I don't think you see it often enough.

Sometimes, some things just have to be said, no matter how obvious.