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Welcome back, heavy-hearted feelings. I missed you. It's been a while since I've had any inspiration to write anything in a while. I haven't been thinking much about the darker things to an inspiring degree. It's been years. I wonder why?
I can't say exactly, whether or not I'm glad I can write again like this. It comes at a high price- a sort of trade for happiness, you see. I suppose it comes from a sense of emptiness, when you've lost so much. I've been holding these thoughts close, tightening their chains for fear of letting them loose, but it's wonderful to feel it again.
All the silence, the pain, the anger is once again returning to me at the peak of joy in life. Or rather, joy for everyone else.
I want to try and keep this mindset. Hopelessness makes the slightest good events seem wonderful. It might be a sort of sadist act, and it may be quite dramatic, but I enjoy that. Besides, who has right to say why I can't?
I go unrecognized in everything I've ever loved doing. Everyday is a competition. Even a fight for whose thoughts are darker. The only difference between us, is that hers are made public and inspired by horror movies. Mine come from genuine emptiness.
In my particular situation, I've reached a point of complete standstill at school. Everyone around me is excelling wonderfully in life while I'm sinking lower and lower, my heart getting uglier and uglier, swallowed by envy. I'm getting left behind, and as much as I'd prefer to be alone, existing as a shadow is too painful. I'm going back to the way I was: someone who crawls into a corner without a personality or opinion on anything; someone who's never heard.
No one can hear me anymore but my precious people, now only two. My third was a joke. Someone I fell in love with again, for the third time. I've only recently discovered that the more I started liking him again, the more painful it was to know the kind of person he's interested in. So there's no point. I don't want to have anything to do with him anymore.
I want to keep writing, because it's all I have. It's my only claim to distinction in the world. If I keep holding onto this heartlessness, then I'll be able to write beyond expectations and excel further than others. That doesn't justify me, I'm aware.
But what am I supposed to do with the hurt? There's no one to share it with at school.