8/4/00
Jenn
As I'm writing this, Jenn is talking to me through AIM. She doesn't realize how much it hurts me to talk to her. The violent confliction of love and guilt is overwhelming. I shouldn't complain though. I brought this all upon myself.
On one hand, I wish things could have started out differently. I wish I could have been like Mike, handsome and charming instead of ugly and pathetic. I wish I didn't have this fear of girls, which controls every aspects of my life. I wish Jenn had fallen for me instead of him. Of course, I'm singing the same song I've song thousands of times. Every time I like a girl, I wish I am flawless, rather than the real monstrosity I am. It's so disappointing though. I know I can't chance and I know how girls think. No matter how sweet and sincere I may be, it is useless without looks. I once said to Jason: "Girls look for honestly and compassion and senses of humor and all that, but they look for it in attractive guys." I don't qualify.
Then, there are the feelings of guilt. When I talk to her, I regret how I manipulating her, using her as an object for my own amusement rather than a wonderful human being. I want to punish myself, by denying myself of her company. If I avoid seeing her and talking to her, I will suffer. That will be the price I pay for mistreating her. I desperately want to be around her, but I know I shouldn't.
I'm thinking about telling her about my suicidal fantasies. I don't know how she'll react. I'm worried it will only further alientate her. After all, who wants to be friends with a guy who is always bitching about wanting to end his life. So, I'm going to continue to bottle it up inside me.
I'm starting to respond to her IMs. I know I shouldn't, but I can't resist. I wish someone would kill me. I'm so weak. This is just inviting disaster.
I'm so frustrated. I've always considered myself a good writer, but my emotions about this are too complex and intense. I can't express how I'm truly feeling. I just want Jenn to know that I would change everything if I could, but I can't. I'm powerless. I am still nothing. It's killing me.
Lovely, Dark, and Deep
Whose woods these are I think I know,
His house is in the village, though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.
My little horse must think it queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year.
He gives his harness bells a shake
To ask if there is some mistake.
The only other sound's the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.
The woods are lovely, dark, and deep,
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.