Memories of the Far Past

18 Jun

I’m so disappointed that killed itself and I didn’t get a chance to download my diary that I had kept faithfully every day for a decade or so.

I did manage to find copies of a diary I had on BraveJournal on the Internet Archive before I got all paranoid or something and deleted it. Diaries need webcrawlers to save them. *sighs* It was enlightening to read some of the stuff I wrote, thankfully, which had one save (saved 23 times between Oct 2005 and Nov 2013) which was before my diary ended up deleted by me with a simple message of, “It’s not safe to write anymore”. Gosh, what does that even mean? The things that were so important back then…they surely have changed now. Or have they?

Here’s a long, but interesting one.

Tuesday, September 6th 2005

3:50 PM

Multiple Me

I talked to Miranda a bit on msn. She asked my why I pretended to be nice when I really am not. A very good question. An even better one would be this: Am I pretending, or are you?

I’m not picture perfect. I’m more of a hell’s angel than an angel at all. However, I am both. I am nice but I am also not so nice. I never pretend to be. People only see what they want to see and they only believe what they want to believe.

She also asked why I would write about people I know in my journal. For one, it is MY journal. Just personal thoughts and opinions, silliness and serious stresses. Why would I not write about what happens to me on a certain given day? If it involved me, of course I would think about it and write it down. This journal is public property, owned by me of course, but yes, still public property. Everyone who wants to read can read, and everyone who doesn’t want to read…doesn’t have to read. It’s simple. The reason why I write about people I know is because the people I know involve me. I’m a selfish person. I wouldn’t care for you or yours unless it has something to do with me.

Nevertheless, I have interesting things to write about today! All dealing with my favorite topic – me! ^-^

For someone to read this journal would take a lot of time and patience. Not everything that is written seems to be all one person. At times, there seems to be multiple me’s where I write in different tones and styles and such. very much so like someone who may have a multiple personality disorder. However, this is all me. Just one of me. And is written at different moods and intervals and times and such. Each of this, each entry is a very tiny fraction of me.

So reading this journal and seeing how screwed up it is in writing, you would perhaps wonder at what kind of person I am. lol. My writings are very confusing, my thoughts are sporatic and my methods are frustrating. However, if you ever met me, if you ever got the chance to know me, you would wonder why I write as such when I am not seemingly harmful as such.

I am your average next door neighbor. Short girl, not too much extraordinary in anything. Draws and does artwork pretty well, not great, but average. Middle length hair, not too short, not too long. Nothing wild as hot pink or lime green but a dark burgundy red. I am pretty much a white girl (not white at all but light), not pale but white enough. I need a tan. lol. Chunky knuckles from excessive cracking and enlarged for the purpose of broader surface for hitting things. No temper tantrums. Very calm and laid back. Talks more than most but somehow would have you talking more than her. Nothing special about me. Nothing unique. No tattoos, no piercings (except one in each ear), doesn’t smoke, doesn’t drink, doesn’t do drugs. Much of a homebody, you would rarely see me outside of my home. I wear pretty normal clothes. Nothing all dark and dreary but nothing all bright and cheery either. I wear pants. Most girls would. I don’t compensate for my lack of height with overly chunky heels (which I cannot run in) nor spiked heels of any length (even worse – think about falling because that spiked end got caught in a hole in the ground). I smile a lot. I laugh, I giggle. I have decent conversations, halfway intelligent at times when my memory doesn’t betray me. I’m cheerful. Nothing dark and depressing about me. I have fun. ^-^

Yet, what resides within my journal, the writings of such unbelievable things, some totally far fetched and some that seems impossible, what words come into play, what twisted imagination, what mood arises and falls like the ocean waves beating against the shore…all of this, none of this…how can any of this – be contained in that simple, normal girl with a normal life and nothing extraordinary to her name.

At times, I am a mirror. A doppleganger. The worst of me is only the worst of you, which I reflect and deal back to you. Whether I am aware of it or not, I do reflect others to them. I cannot explain it any more than that.

At times, I am a catalyst. I drop in at times of crisis, inflict changes, and go about my way. Whether these changes are good or bad, whether these changes are actually my doing or not, I do not have the answers to. I always seem to drop in at times of crisis and something happens, good or bad in someone else’s life that may not involve me personally. (It never seems to involve me personally.)

I am very empathetic. I am kind. I need no reasons for my kindness, my empathy and feelings. I need no motives to be nice. I just do the things I do, make the offers I make, without ever thinking twice of how benefiting someone else will benefit me. I am talkative and playful and I will help anyone and anything that I can.

I am also very cold. I am distant and I am intimidating. I do not talk to people and when I do, it doesn’t go well. I frustrate others and I don’t feel anything at all…emotions or whatnot. I have no motives, no drives, no reasons. I need none to be me. I am most destructive when I am cold and dead. And those who come at me during such times with whatever is on their mind is likely to find that they are not well received. I do not like ill company. I do not like company at all. I am cold and dead and hard. You will not find life in me and you will not find anything kind either. You will not be able to budge me and none of those who have been close to me enough can sense this, without seeing me. One does not need to know me to sense parts of me.

There are two ways that people will take me. You either will hate me or you will love me. But you will never feel indifferent about me. You may not remember me (which is wonderful because I like anonymity) but at the time being, that is what you will feel towards me. One of those two ways.

I am the easiest person to talk to, the hardest to know anything about that’s substantial, and my feet are never on the ground. I am a dreamer. One who is capable of not only dreaming, but bringing them into reality. This one. For all the world to see when the time comes for me to play.

I have different moods and I do get angry but my anger never lasts long and my moods are never present. I am good at hiding and keeping secrets. From you, from them, and even from myself.

I know my strengths, but I do not recall them. I know my weaknesses, but I do not recall them. I know my path, but I do not recall the way. I am aware, but confused. I am alive, but dead. I am just one, but many. I just am.

Why is it that no one ever listens to me? Then they start believing in whatever they feel like and when they fail or when something goes wrong, they turn right back to me and pushes it upon me. As if I gave them a life to begin with. Fix your own damn problems. You have nothing to offer me so don’t expect me to help you. Even if I said I would for the moment because it gave you hope and I merely toyed with you.

I am rude. And mean. And cold.

I am also polite. And kind. And warm.

In Michael’s guestbook, there was a question that I had never seen before. Ever. It said something along the lines of this: “What is your heart made out of?” My reply was simple. Automatic. “Darkness and Light.” That is what my heart is made out of, and that is a part of what I am made out of too.

For all of those you claim to be of a darker nature, for all of you who believes that you are evil and rotten inside…you can never understand because you do not know, that inside of each of us is not just light and not just dark, there resides both.

For all of those who want to show ME the dark side…*grins*…I hope you are ready. For if you fail, I shall show you something you may never have the chance to open your eyes and see again.

I need no motives, I need no reasons. I hide nothing. If you want to know, you would only have to ask. And ask the right questions it must be. Mostly, I help guide you to asking the right questions. But I am open. I am whole. I am here. And I am real. Just as real as you are.

And if you need for me to prove anything at all, then you are not worth my time. For those who know, would understand. And those who know, needs no proof to verify what is already known. ^-^

*   *   *

By the way, I didn’t know I scared Michael at times. lol. I tend to scare quite a few people.

My writings might sound jumbled and my thoughts – incomplete. But I am whole. And all this madness, is not madness to me. ^-^

Sometimes I wish I was nicer. Then at times, I wished I had the courage to walk away in the beginning because I knew it would be bad in the end. Thinking back on my life, I should’ve walked away from many people and many things: from Keera, from the Otherworld, from Shaun, from Jay, from Xyr. Shame on me. But I am learning now. It will be okay.

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Posted by on June 18, 2014 in Diary


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