Dear Xanga,

     It's time for me to take a leave of absence. Perhaps for a few months, perhaps for good. My passion for blogging, writing in general has dwindled. To be quite blunt and honest, my passion for everything has completely dissipated. I've come to the realization that my thoughts, oppinons, beliefs, everything I have built my life on, holds absolutely no value. My very existence is so insignificant in the scheem of things. Oh so insignificant.

     If you've read even one, just one of my blog posts or even talked to me before, you would know for a fact that trust to me is golden. I don't trust, trust is the hardest, most gut wrenching task for me to over come, and when you finally earn my trust, I cherish you and I expect you to cherish it. Frankly, it takes months of loyalty to earn my trust, and I have my reasons for why this is. People, "human beings" are pathetic, vial, unworthy life forms to ever walk this planet.

     When I trust someone, I can only garuntee you 60% trust, I don't think I have made an effort to go beyond that unless they are truly outstanding, and spend years by my side through my flaws, my down falls, everything you could possibly imagin. I met someone, someone I believed would understand my very existance, because fuck I don't. The connection ran deep, at least for me. Trust came easily, 80%, a new record for myself.

     I entrusted said person with things I didn't even want to admit to myself, impurities that I would never let the world ever set their hungry, disgusting eyes on. Oh yes, this person had the most trust then anyone has ever siphoned out of me. I knew I wouldn't win their trust as easily, and I was content with this, earning trust. I grew closer, fell harder, faster, my head would spin with a mere kiss.. and then said person threw a big "FUCK YOU" in my face.

     I was foolish to believe I could let anyone in with out my normal analyzation, inspection and tests of loyalty. I was foolish to believe I was absolutely amazing in anyones eyes. I'm not perfect, but I tried so hard. Have you ever pushed yourself, and gave someone more then you had, and had them slap you in the face in the end? To try so unbelievably hard to be as wonderful as you can be, and tell you it's not good enough? Well, it's not a lovely feeling.

     I've been pushed, I've been hit, spit on, called every name in the book, and had said book thrown at my face; but nothing, nothing compares to the feeling of worthlessness. I've felt broken, but no one has shoved me so far down into my own self loathing as this one particular induvidual. I can't blame said person completely, I am to blame souly for fueling the fire. I'm bold, pretentious, hot headed, ignorant. I'm aware I am far from perfect, I have reminders every waking moment of the day. I am the deffinition of failure, I assure you. Hopeless, a lost cause.

     This person has taught me many of things: To go after what I want no matter the risk, be daring and spontanious, understand my potential, understand others. Most of all, he taught me that none of this matters, that it is all a blatant lie. In so many words, in his eyes, I am pathetic, a helpess excuse, unintellegent, and that my dreams and aspirations are silly and petty. I am nothing. I am practically scum of the earth. He is the wonderful person who helped me come to this eye opening realization, I have no value.

     When I die, a few also insignificant people will shed tears, and I will soon be forgotten. Dust in the wind. When I die, my very existance will not be celebrated, it will not be remembered, I will simply be someone who breathed air and did nothing of importance. This couldn't be more true. The truth, the inevitable, we're born, we live, we die. The end.

     Pathetic, is it not?

     While I'm being honest here, bluntly honest, I want to get one more thing off of my chest before it ultimitly suffocates me. This is not easy for me to admit, not easy for me to come forth and speak freely about. As you readers know, or my conscience, who ever this is even directed to, who ever cares, I have been suffering from depression for close to five years now, anxiety for three, and for the past 5-6 months I have been suffering from an eating disorder. I've been denying it, hiding it, pretending like it wasn't there, but it is. All three are consuming me faster then I can rebuild myself. I'm parishing. It's gone to far to just stop, it's a part of me now; and much like everything else, it will strip me of whatever there is left to salvage.

     I'm a weak human being who was never meant to face this world. I have one final thing to say, I do not blame this person for anything they have said, I do not feel hatred towards them, not even in the slightest. They are my flaws, someone had to point them out, someone had to show me how disgustingly pathetic I truly am. Thank you, I will no longer live a lie. I know who I am. I am nothing. Just like everyone else, I will never be anything special, so this is me, not trying anymore. I give up on myself, the same way they did.

     So long Xanga, perhaps I will grace your web page again some day, but it's highly unlikely. My life is not that important, not that spactacular for me to clutter the internet with my self loathing non sense. Fare well, and goodbye.

 

     xoxoxo.

    

 

 

Tonight I say goodbye. This is a follow up on yesterday's wish of a blog. For years I've been telling men that going after me, is like playing with fire, and here I sit scorching my flesh with your brilliant flame. I'm a true pyromaniac now, aren't I? I miss the feeling of falling in love, and have them crazy about you in return. I started to fall for you as the days passed, as you broke down the steal wall I had enclosed myself in. I thought perhaps, maybe you would fall in love with me, maybe all those things you said about me were true. As long as they don't apply to you.

I'm quiting while I am ahead, no more dreams of your warmth, no more longing for what isn't mine, what never will be. I'll swallow concentrated bleach if it kills this swarm of butterflies that flood my stomach. No matter how hard I try, you never let me in. It's like breaking down a brick wall with a feather, there is no winning with you. Since you suddenly appeared in my life, I've been wearing my heart on my sleeve. Before you, I was afraid I would never feel butterflies again, I was terrified of love. I should have known better.

You're amazing, beautiful and oh so gentle. The women you love are equally as beautiful, but they'll never shine quite as bright as you. I think if you ever knew, if you could peer into this chaotic mind of mine and discovered these feelings. You would run into the fiery depths of hell before ever giving me a second thought. You made me believe in love at first sight, because these feelings hit me like a ton of bricks, full force.

Tonight I say goodbye to that. I will never amount to someone you could ever love, I'm just a child to you, a little school girl with a crush. I'll let this sense of realization wash over me, clear you from my heart, mind and body. I'll let this loneliness resume to eating away at me, just as much as it ever was. Before you. Dreams of you were bitter-sweet, but sweet none the less. So long, by almost lover. We would have been beautiful.

Everyone has their muse, something that grabs on to your soul and lingers with this sense of wonder and amazement. For me, I have two. Tragedies and the stars, put the two together and you have star-crossed lovers. "Star-crossed lovers is a phrase often describing a pair of lovers whose relationship is said to be doomed from the start." This topic was brought up today, and it made me really think as to why stories like Romeo and Juliet and Wurthering Heights speak to me, in a sense.

Romeo and Juliet, well I adore the story, the language, the setting, but I can never really relate on a personal level. Wurthering Heights on the other hand, well, it lures me in and consumes me with it's twisted beauty. Although I have never lived through what Bronte portray's in this masterpiece. Although fragments of their relationship reflect personal experiences of mine. I've felt Heathcliff's vindictive lovers rage, feeling as though I will never meet the standards of the one I once loved, that I will never be enough. I have also been in Cathy's position, pretending to love one, when another has my heart.

I was asked why I like tragedies so much, and all I could think was there is something about a doomed love; it reaches deep within the hidden corners of your heart. The corners that doubt love beyond all point of reasoning. It's twisted, it's hateful, broken and death is inevitable. However in the end, when death has made his visit and tears are shed their love lingers on in the memories of the ones around them, and much like Cathy's ghost haunting Heathcliff, until the two join once again in death; tragedies haunt our very thoughts and leave us wondering if it was ever really worth it.

"From forth the fatal loins of these two foes, a pair of star-cross'd lovers, take their life." - Shakespeare.