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May. 8th, 2005 01:10 amI thought that if Sierra couldn't come I'd be bored beyond tears because I'd have no one to talk to. I was half right.
Sierra couldn't make it, I was disappointed but not surprised (I hope she had fun at her party). I liked my dress, it was off the shoulder and I actually looked pretty good. But that was the extent of the goodness.
Ernie came (I had signed him up and bought his ticket for him) but we exchanged five lines of dialogue for the whole night, that was the longest conversation I had the whole night.
I was miserable, alone with no company other than my own thoughts, which was probably the worst thing I could have done. I realize things (or think I do) when I'm alone. Tonight I realized that I don't have a single person or being (aside from my Mother and only when she's not running around) that would search me out. A friend of mine goes off, I look for them. It's simple, I don't like the idea of anyone I care about being depressed and alone.
Sitting outside in the shadow of dusk I pretended, I fantasized and it was so real it hurt all the worse for the reality to come back. I kept hearing the crunch of gravel underfoot, a heat as a warm body approached, a creak of wood as they sat beside me or a comforting hand on my shoulder. None of it was real. There was no one, and I wonder if there ever will be. I don't mean a lover, that's too far beyond my grasp. I merely want a companion that will seek me out as I do them, that will sit in contented silence watching light play on water.
Though I love my friends, I do, none of them have ever sought me out above others and it hurts.
I spent a little less than an hour trying and failing to control myself. Anita Blake has a well of rage within her, a pit with waves of emotion roiling about. I have a black hole somewhere within me that lashes out, a pit so dark I don't know how far down it goes. Filled with pain, with grief, with shame, and loneliness.
Please, oh please let this feeling pass, let the pain end please . . . please. Or at least replace the emptiness with something, the heat of anger or the cold fear. Please anything but this heart-numbing blankness.
Sierra couldn't make it, I was disappointed but not surprised (I hope she had fun at her party). I liked my dress, it was off the shoulder and I actually looked pretty good. But that was the extent of the goodness.
Ernie came (I had signed him up and bought his ticket for him) but we exchanged five lines of dialogue for the whole night, that was the longest conversation I had the whole night.
I was miserable, alone with no company other than my own thoughts, which was probably the worst thing I could have done. I realize things (or think I do) when I'm alone. Tonight I realized that I don't have a single person or being (aside from my Mother and only when she's not running around) that would search me out. A friend of mine goes off, I look for them. It's simple, I don't like the idea of anyone I care about being depressed and alone.
Sitting outside in the shadow of dusk I pretended, I fantasized and it was so real it hurt all the worse for the reality to come back. I kept hearing the crunch of gravel underfoot, a heat as a warm body approached, a creak of wood as they sat beside me or a comforting hand on my shoulder. None of it was real. There was no one, and I wonder if there ever will be. I don't mean a lover, that's too far beyond my grasp. I merely want a companion that will seek me out as I do them, that will sit in contented silence watching light play on water.
Though I love my friends, I do, none of them have ever sought me out above others and it hurts.
I spent a little less than an hour trying and failing to control myself. Anita Blake has a well of rage within her, a pit with waves of emotion roiling about. I have a black hole somewhere within me that lashes out, a pit so dark I don't know how far down it goes. Filled with pain, with grief, with shame, and loneliness.
Please, oh please let this feeling pass, let the pain end please . . . please. Or at least replace the emptiness with something, the heat of anger or the cold fear. Please anything but this heart-numbing blankness.
