:: Closing Time ::

:: Tuesday, June 18, 2002 ::

I think, before I go off to school, I'll make a blog. Or a webpage. About everything I need to say about/to people that I don't have the means, or the opportunity to say.

Tell everyone I wish I could have known better. Everyone I was really fond of. Who might not have known.

Tell everyone I wish could have known me better, and treated me for who I am, and not who they perceive me to be.

Maybe I won't do the latter. I don't think I'd want to have anything negative in that personal a tell all.

But a cry for help, to ask people to listen. To ask people to try. How can that ever be negative?


There are people who have baffled me with their ability to make me feel 10 ways at once. Irritated and infatuated, a remarkably common pairing. People who I swear must have bipolar personalities, or at least react to me differently on different days. I'm sure the answer is me, because I'm the connection, but I just don't see it. For everyone who's been nothing but an angel on Monday, and the biggest pain in the ass on Tuesday. At least how I saw it, at least how we crossed.

The worst part of that life was the regret, the remorse, for having had to fight on Tuesday what I adored the day before.

That's always hurt. That regret, that guilt, that pain.

I don't ever want it to be Tuesday again, for any of you.
:: Peter 3:03 AM [+] ::
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