Strings.

Day 59, 60

Monday I went out with a group of friends. Last night I had a read-through of a brilliant play and went out for a drink. Today I had an english exam and will go to the cinema. Tomorrow evening I am at an audition. Southampton, singing lessons, pubs, parties - I am not exactly bored.

Yet everyday I find even a little slither of time to let myself be dragged back by the ankles to the darkroom. And once I'm out of the blindness, I'm either too drained or too ashamed to explain to anyone and get it all out of myself. Plus, there is far too much to even try and express. Predominantly indignant frustration.

One day I will learn to loathe.

I was wrong to ever think we couldn't do any of those things. I should never have done that to you. SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP.

You don't mean it. You lie. You always lie. You never stop lying. To me, to her, to them, your parents, your friends, yourself. All of it - intricate sketches of distorted reality, about this and that. If I could forgive you for all those other lies, those vicious egocentric tales, I am not at peace with you lying about this to all these stone faces.

I have turned into something I was always so high and mighty about not letting myself become. A paper doll, dangling on a string in his fingers, and he swings me this way and that way, always to his advantage. Swing - I'm out, between brick walls, being ignored. Swing - I am back in his bed and he's missed me. Swing - I am something in between, hanghanghanging. Swing - I am going crazy trying to work out what the fuck I am. Swing - his sheets. Swing - his cold shoulder. Swing - his arms. Swing - her arms. Swing - a smile and a childish wink and a kiss on the forehead. Swing - a cold stare as he marches past, gripping her hand before she's noticed me. Swing - my bed, clutching a pillow for dear life.

Someone I never expected to be as smart, some one I didn't think would care, some one I thought would be the last person on earth to be so horribly right, sat me down on Monday Night. And for hours he told me I am better than this, I am not a doormat, what he is doing to me is just as bad as what he is doing to... Anyway I cried and he hugged me and I knew he couldn't be any closer to the truth.

But in the real world we never take advice that we don't want, even if its right advice. We pick and choose and decide which path suits us better. Because we are selfish. Selfish animals, who design a life around self-gain, self-adorations, self-illusion. But in the end, it all moulds into one - Self-loathing.

The hilarious thing is - he doesn't feel guilty anymore, of course. He is immune. None of it matters, as long as he get what he wants, he wins.

Oh well, let's carry on. It could always get worse, I guess.