September 9
I like to think that the reason I've become
so violently inclined as of late is that I
finally feel safe enough to let it out. Like
having to endure the rehab before you finally
become OK.
In the event that I actually do lose control,
I really don't know whether I would turn against myself or others. I don't hate myself at all anymore; i'm starting to see myself almost like a character I've built up. One that I would not be easily persuaded to risk losing.
And I do think its possible that I will lose control.
People saw me as somewhat out of control around this time last year. But to be perfectly honest, while I was EXTREMELY unhappy and not in control of what I was feeling (or the events which caused those feelings), the ways in which I responded made sense to me. They were rational, thought out responses, given that they came from a perhaps somewhat frightened and deranged mind. What was scary for me was that I was responded to as though I was threatining people.
Was I? Well, that's a complicated question, because I was intending to make myself heard from inside the heads of the recipients, not through some external attack, which is how it was percieved.
It is easy to cause an emotional reaction in another person, but impossible to determine precisely what that reaction will be.
October 1
I was on the way back home from New York with
Lauren, feeling so eager to get back home.
And then it occurred to me: who was it exactly
that I wanted to get back to see? Did anyone
besides Rebecca even know that I wasn't there
in the first place?
Who would have suspected that I would be
envious of a time when I was completely absorbed
in the obsessive stigma that accompanies
unrequited love? I was still alone, but
there was a tangible place that was home to me,
even if I was unwelcome there.
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