Could you just fix it for me? I’ll pay you well. Oh, fuck, I’ll pay you anything If you could understand. The following is a letter to several persons, not just one. They will know who they are, individually, but not know who the others are. There will be some parts of the letter that do not pertain to them, which they should still read, but not take to heart. I would ask them to read the entire letter first before coming to a conclusion about what it is, how I feel, or what is being said. Thank you. To whom it may concern: I’m not dead, but sometimes I wish I was. I’ve had many, many important dreams in the past month – and while I know that they are the reason why I started this journal in the first place, I’ve lacked the desire and will to write them. I haven’t been disregarding or ignoring this journal out of spite for anyone and no, I haven’t gotten a journal anywhere else or started a new one. I just haven’t wanted to fulfill this obligation for a while. For those of you wondering how the new medication is going – BuSpar isn’t worth a shit. Where as I am feeling less stressed, I am in turn feeling increasingly depressed – I suppose it’s from not focusing on the anxiety anymore. I’m returning to the doctor’s tomorrow for my yearly physical – which is required for childcare/educational careers. I will talk with my physician about a different prescription then. But now on to more pressing matters. I’ve been a fool. I will never know love as it was meant to be given. She was right when she said we were better as friends than lovers. I didn’t want to believe her – but she was right. I still love her, but we are doing better now as friends. We fight less, hurt each other less, and that is what matters. It’s better this way – though it doesn’t stop me from missing her, or my heart from feeling broken. As far as the rest of my life goes … is it wrong for me to ask for a little affection and sympathy of my own in return for all that I dish out time and time again each day? It’s wearing its toll on me, to listen to the same problems, the same experiences and accounts from the same people, day after day and night after night, dishing out the sympathy, the pity, the affection and comforting that they seek. I supposed it’s too much of me to ask for the same when I’m genuinely feeling down, to reach out my arms to them for a simple hug when I really need it – only to have them look away and cry over the fact that I had to ask them for a such a thing. Crying over the fact that I had to ask them if they cared about me because I needed to hear it from someone, having not heard a single “I love you” in days, and then turning away from me, stating they can’t believe I had to ask instead of giving me an outright “Yes, I care about you and love you, Seth.” No, I get a “*tears up* I can’t believe you had to ask me.” I asked because I knew they would say yes, because I needed that confirmation, needed to hear it … I guess I was wrong in thinking they would confirm they cared, grant me a hug. And in trying to make myself feel better with a simple confirmation, I only succeeded in making them feel bad and myself worse – alone, unnecessary and empty. It hurts me to know that something so simple can turn into something so painful and heartbreaking. People assume things too quickly, too. They need to step outside of their self-consumed, depressed persona and stop immediately accusing me (or anyone else, for that matter) of being unfaithful just because I’m hugging someone else. Stop assuming that just because I’m talking to someone different, that we’re all buddy-buddy, or going out, or fucking, or whatever. Why can’t people just take a step out and look through a different window? People shouldn’t feel bad for making an assumption “like the others” – it doesn’t make them just like everyone else, or generic, but it makes them human. No, they shouldn’t feel bad about making the assumption, but they should feel bad for making me feeling worse for something that they did – and that they concocted in their own imaginations. No, it doesn’t make me love them any less – and “they petty jealousy doesn’t make me love them any more” – but it does make me wonder why I am even in this world. Why do I bother staying if everyone I fell in love with or care about won’t let me be me? I feared opening myself because I knew my feelings would hurt people, and I apologize for the pain I cause, but I don’t apologize for having these feelings. In my heart and mind, my emotions are justified. Grant me reason to feel different, to think differently. The people I speak of, they know who they are, though I know that many others who read this will ask me about it – and I just have to tell them that I’ve already said my piece, already said all I’ve needed to say and don’t want to talk about it anymore. As for those who are the greater portion of “whom it may concern” – I am not interesting in hearing a rebuttal or more accusations, no “I thought you meant’s” or “you misinterpreted’s” – no, I’m only interested in apologies and I love you’s. My heart has been broken enough over the past two years; I don’t need to feel even worse than I already do. I’m serious when I say things like “when you go, I go,” because when you go, it reminds me yet again that I have failed – and I’m reminded every day of that – often times, more than just once. When I see your letters, your picture beside my bed, your name online, your number on the caller ID, your e-mails, when I pass you in the halls at school – I’m reminded constantly of my failure. And when you remind me in your own words, it only adds onto it, worsening the pain of my sinking heart and deepening the wound. So please, stop to think before you give me a lecture on me telling you how I feel has hurt you – you are not helping the situation by arguing with me over the matter, aren’t helping with anything when I tell you exactly what I mean and how I feel and then you twist my words around to mean something else because sometimes it seems you like to feel worthless. No. You aren’t helping at all. You’re hurting yourself, too, because you’re setting yourself up to lose me. If you do try any of the above, I will not listen and will shut you out because I will know exactly what you will say – and I don’t need nor want to hear it. And you aren’t winning me back or changing my mind, or making me love you any more or less than I already do. You are only causing me to shy away from talking about me, from opening up about anything. Please, I don’t ask for anything more than your love and affection … I don’t want anything more, don’t need anything more. Please, just hold me and love me – that’s all I ask of you. That’s all. Often times, I don’t know why I am still holding on, because I feel cold coming from every angle. I just feel cold … empty … alone … Again, I am sorry if I hurt you. I’m not sorry for feeling as I do or telling you what I fee. Is there anyone out there? Someone who will love me unconditionally? Someone who will put her or his arms around me when I lean on a shoulder? Someone I can count on to say “I love you” when I need to hear it, who won’t question my feeling for them just because I ask in need of hearing it? Is there someone out there who will make me feel loved? Is there? Is there anyone? Or is this just some silly dream I have of something that could never possibly exist? The curse is real, isn’t it? No matter wehat anyone says. Everything that happens only confirms its existence. Give me reason … give me reason to stay … Because right now … I don’t want to be in this cold, heartless world. “Don’t give me songs … give me something to sing about.” Yours truly, Seth