2003-11-24 - 10:04 p.m.
Well, it didn't work, as I had predicted. I woke up feeling fine today, with all the energy I would ever need to face the world. But I knew the feeling was still there. I tried to feed it, to feel the depression, so that maybe I could understand it. It was sick, and it didn't do me much good, though I was surprised at how quickly some people caught on. You can't let your mask off for a moment without someone wants to send you to the nurse or guidance office. Or maybe that was just because it was so unusual for me. Anyway, I couldn't do it.
At first I was worried I couldn't, but then I thought about having to see people. How Elizabeth would ask me how I was, and I would want to say that it was bad, but know better and tell her everything was fine and wonderful and couldn't be better, and how sad I would feel for having to say this. Of course, I don't always go way out like that, usually it is just a fine thank you or something. Sometimes it feels like it helps to blow it out of proportion, to overdo it a bit.
Anyway, I could feel that sorrow ahead of time, and it put me in the depressed mood I wanted. When I saw her, I told her I didn't want to talk about it. She sounded hurt. Good, her pain made me feel worse. I continued on like that for most of the morning, faultering every now and then, because I just couldn't bring myself to hurt someone, either because I cared too much for them or they aren't involved. I broke in the afternoon though. I couldn't take it. The sorrow wasn't so bad, I could handle that, but the sick feeling I got every time one of my friends looked at me helpless, concerned, hurt themselves... I just couldn't do it.
I told Stephanie my day hadn't been very good, but I couldn't be sad anymore. By the end of work, the best I could do was to happily announce that my day had been terrible to a stranger. By the evening, I was smiling and telling everyone I felt great. And I guess I did feel great.
That's fine and all. I mean, if I can keep feeling this way, then so be it, as I said before. But I won't always. I will feel again like I did the past few days, and I don't know how I will deal with it. I guess just wait it out. I wish there was a better way though, but I guess sometimes life is just tough. I guess I was expecting there to be an answer, but there just isn't one that I can find.
So, I'll be strong when I can, and seek out new sources of strength, so that perhaps I'll always be strong. But I won't always. And when I'm not, I'll do regrettable things, most likely. But perhaps someone will be there to keep an eye on me. If they can't get me feeling better, at least they might be there to understand, to forgive me. I may not be sorry then, but I'm sorry now. Please forgive me...
(The darkness inside of me loves this confusion, takes advantage of it. When all other motivation leaves me, when nothing can give me true fullfillment, it offers the potential of happiness, though a sick twisted joy it is. I could never live with it as I am, but during those times... if it were to ever last much longer, I am afraid to say I don't know how much I might change. You might object, and I hope you would. "Do your best, and I'm sure it will be okay. I believe in you." I appreciate it, that means a lot. I'm glad that there are people who believe in me. But there are a lot of things about me people do not know. And sadly, once I am in this state, I no longer desire to do my best, no longer care about my ideals about my goals, about my friends and my loves. I can usually still act the way I would want to for them, but not because it makes me happy, only becuase of habit or some fear or loathing I feel in myself. And that way I act sometimes, as if I hate, as if I could enjoy the suffering of others... sometimes it seems a relief. I would like to say that I truly regret this, but I do not. I sometimes worry that makes me a bad person, but I must live true to myself. You do not know what my true self is. I think sometime, I would like to write about the person I would become, if somehow I gave into these feelings. It might begin:
"There was a time when I refused even to think of causing suffering in others. The very possibility made me sick and sorrowful. It was inevitable that such a fool should have died; I almost feel sorry him. But from his ashes I have arisen, something stronger, a puppet that has now become a master.")
