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Monday, September 22, 2008

YKWYA (You Know Who You Are)

My angst is more intense than the dire problems of the country. This is angst overridden. This is angst exposed - without fins, scales, skins or masks. This is MY angst. And I'll bequeath you with nothing, nothing at all except for this angst!

Did God intend his creations NOT to be made of the finest materials - not of marble, not of bronze, not of gold - BUT of the most rotten foibles? I doubt so for I highly respect God.

Do you intend to expunge superficiality - not propriety? I am questioning your choices. After all, you know what they say - it's your choices that show you who you are, far more than your abilities.

Dearest Friends,

I wanted to tell you a thousand things - a thousand things worth-knowing. Positive ones! Negative ones! But did you deign to listen? No. You said you didn't want to. It implied that you didn't want to get hurt. The problem is, I wasn't even trying to get you hurt in the first place. Even if I did, the positive after-effect would be: your strength not mine.

I've been a friend of yours for a long time now! Listening is the only gift I wanted you to present to me! It was the only gift I wanted - the gift I longed for as a kid, the gift I yearned to unwrap during Christmas or any given Sunday. But it was the one gift that you couldn't give me. I've helped you with a lot of things. I've helped you with your inner psyche. And all I wanted was for you to listen. Just please, please listen. If it wouldn't be too materialistic of me to bask under the light of this non-existent gift... But you didn't give me this gift. Perhaps it was too expensive? Perhaps...?

Our inconsistencies have left a huge gap on my outlook towards you. I don't like you anymore. It may sound like the most hypocritical thing but really - I don't like you anymore. I don't want to be with you. Even if I'd want to be with you, it's because of old times' sake. I don't really need old times' sake with someone who was "not there" since the old times, right?

The worst part is, the opposite just happened. Instead of me hurting you, you hurt me. Now I'm trying to drown any forms of life with my music.

When you come back, oh, I don't know. Will I be gone? Will I partake in this mutilated friendship? Will I sink? What will happen?

Nothing happens unless we talk. Unless you give me that gift.

But right now I don't think I want to take it anymore.







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