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Saturday, March 11, 2006


For the record, this is my March 10 post even though it's considered March 11- it's still 9:00 here- so I'll have another post tomorrow or today or whatever in the evening so make sure you check back.

I almost considered not even posting at all. I just... I don't know. It's one of those days when you just have a long discussion with yourself consisting mainly of the word "why". Like, why am I still here. Or, why do I do these things. Or, why am I so confused. There are two groups of you people, those of you who know exactly what I'm talking about and those of you who are completely confused. To the latter, I apologize.

Anyway, it's weird, but lately I can't help but wonder what life would be like if I was normal. I'm not saying I'd rather be like them- I'm still confused as to that matter- but what I mean is, I see other people at my school, happy and social stuff, and I can't help but wonder why I didn't turn out like them. What made me different. While I tell my self that one incident changed me for good, it's not true. Even before that time, I was different. Or at least, I think I was. I'm not sure. my entire life up to a little over a year ago is a blur and I hardly ever remember it. And you can hardly blame me. What happened then rocked my entire life to the foundation, and to this day, a year later, it stands out as the only thing worthwhile I'd ever done in my life. The irony in it is astounding, for that same thing is the one thing in my life I regret above all others.

It all comes down to one simple concept: If I had the chance, would I have prevented it all from happening? Would I have given myself the shot at a normal life? On one hand, the pain was so crushing and I don't think the scars will ever completely heal. I still find myself crying at the mere thought of what happened. I'm still haunted by all the scenarios I imagine, the realities that could have been. It just all hurts so much and I always feel like I'm going to break. I hate myself for having done what I did, and the guilt is overwhelming. Some days it feels like hurting people is the only thing I can do right. But on the other hand, I know I could never throw it all away. I learned so much, experienced so much, felt so much that I didn't even know existed, things I know others didn't know of either. I just feel lucky sometimes at how much I know because of it. And, most importantly, those days were the happiest I'd ever known in my life. I wouldn't trade anything in the world for these memories, because they're the only happiness I have anymore. I learned that even a person like me can be happy, even though it hurts sometimes. The memories are what keep me alive, and what haunt me. It's a double-edged sword, but one I still intend to wield.

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