Everything seems like illusion.
Fiction holds more reality for me than life.� Television shows and fims engage me and feel real - I can respond to them; they make me laugh and cry, they enable me to feel.� Even playing a computer game holds more connection and reality for me than life.
The time I get to spend with G is too fleeting.� The rest of the time it's like I don't exist.�
Being on my own so much really isn't good for me.
I wish I had someone to tell this stuff to.
�But you can't say these you things. not out loud.. not to people who love you.� They will just be hurt, so you say nothing.
�But how I am meant to resolve it if I don't ever talk about it, or admit it?
�My inability to go out, to use the phone, to rarely be able to communicate more than a sentance online.. these things are real.� They are limiting.� They are things that much as I am striving to change, are something I can not ignore.� Plus, as bad as these things are to live with, they come with an associated cost that just makes it even worse.
�It costs me the people I love.� Because they don't understand.� They think I don't bother. That I haven't bothered.� The fact that I have pushed beyond my limits to make as much contact as I have is meaningless. Because it's not enough.� It never will be enough.
�And I am irrelevent.
Add comment