Reading Aynjell's journal

I just realized something about myself: I am not truly happy unless I'm miserable. In order for me to feel at peice, I have to have shed a tear that day. In order for me to feel okay with myself, I have to hurt a little. I guess I have not truly forgiven myself. When I was younger, I did some horrible things. Horrible things that seperated me from my family, freinds, and even from myself. My computer has kept me away from this fact, as have many many other things, but recently I was reminded of it.

I've lived in group homes the majority of my adolesence, and as such, I occasionally met someone I liked and they didn't like me. Hell, nobody did, and I can't say to any certainty that anyone does, and I like it that way. Anyway, regardless of the facts, I had to see them on a daily basis, and be reminded of it, how I felt and how they felt.

At one point, I literally lost my sanity from how miserable I was. I was in good standing, with all the priveleges that the facility I lived in offered, and I threw it all away because I couldn't have the appreciation of one woman. All I wanted is for her to not hate me... Lara was her name. I have since grown away from this need, but I remember now, how truly blissful it felt to suffer over not being loved by somebody you care about so deeply.

It's the best god damn feeling in the world. At that time, my mind revolved around her, and my obsession (exactly that), was so close to stalking that it frightened me. I combatted this need to feel accepted, but it was to no avail. She did appease my need for attention a time or two, but I could feel it radiating off of her how much she hated me. Or perhaps she felt another way, and in order to not... no, it was no that. I know that.

She was the recreational instructor there. Beatiful, abstract, interesting. Yet, while I did want her, it was in more than one way. In so many ways that it quickly developed into a need. Every day I saw here, and I was reminded how much she hated me, and how much I cared, and how much I loved the feeling. I know again this feeling.

Has anyone else found comfort in agony?

I should be ashamed of myself.

*smiling*....yes.

Agony, is exquisite. In that moment, it can be beyond exquisite. All of my heros, as it were, suffered much and from that birth place of pain the most beautiful works of art that the world treasures were created.

I write my best from that place. Paint things that keep people mezerized for hours from that place, and I feel the most real from that place.
What I know and have known for a very long time about me is that I wouldn't know what to do if someone actually adored me or loved me simply for who I was.
In the deepest part of me, there is an awareness, that the only reason people spend time with me is for what I can do for them or what gifts and talents I walk around in.

It's something that used to turn like a knife inside, and make me bleed until I had to in turn, make the surface of my body resemble what what so over powering inside.

People like you and me are in good company. And there is medical and scientific evidence as to why. There is a lack of saritonen in our brains.
The more creative a person is the greater the lack. We also share the same lack with the other end of the specturm, mass murders and other truely twisted individuals....

So much for the notion that we are "special" in our love of misery.

From a twisted view of things, it feels good to hurt. It's a love hate relationship. There is a want to know beyond any shadow of a doubt that someone, anyone would actually feel any real feelings of affection devoid of any other motivation.

I know there are people who say they love me. But without exception I have done or said something that they have told me has made a difference.
I know if they met me on street as a stranger they would walk around me as though I were invisible.
How do I know this? Life long experience.

I have loved simply for the act of loving. And I know without a doubt, that there has been no one who has met me with no knowledge of who I am, who has returned the same just simply because I'm me.

And the idea that I am invisible in group settings is ok with me.
Knowing that the one person I love more than any other in the world, often would rather be in the company of someone other than me hurts like hell, and when I confront them, they get angry and tell me I'm wrong....but it's screams from their actions and screams even louder from their eyes...I know that the reason they stay is that I am a convience in their life...
and if I stopped letting them use me they would find a way to go away....
And it hurts knowing that. It hurts so good...it's what I have come to precieve that I deserve....

..but you didn't hear this from me....

It only looks that way because your standing on your head.