oh, the mind of a writer..

have you ever been so upset that your past the point of crying? that you can feel yourself shake as you try and take a deep breath? im beyond mad. beyond upset. i can hardly handle it. i wrote a blog about this last night, when it happened, but in my haste to get everything out, i didnt save it. oops. anyhow… god. well, okay. yes, the truth is, i slept with him. i slept with him because i finally felt wanted. in about 7 months, actually felt wanted. loved- more then a friend. i felt as if i was being values intrinsically, instead of valuing others that way. i really liked him. so, i slept with him. last night: he told. he told the one person who i didnt want to know. i really didnt want anyone to know- what goes on in my spare time is no one elses busness other then my own- i mean, did i hurt anyone by doing it? not at all, because if no one cares about you, who’s there to hurt? anyway, back to what happened. he told the one guy who has put me through hell the last year. the guy who put HIM through hell. the guy who wants to see me hurt. the guy who got HIM kicked out of fucking rez by a lie. yes, that guy. and because (i’ll call that guy calvin, and the one who i slept with bob) calvin magically un blocked bob on msn, and started to talk to him, he was so desprate to make emends with a guy who completely betrayed him that he was willing to tell him everything- including something that would make him betray the one person from that ‘group’ who stood by him through all that shit. the person who said “fuck what you did to me, i forgive you… now, i’ll be there for you because i know what its like to be abandoned and ridiculed by people who you thought were friends”. so in other words, i was a push over, once again. and what pisses me off the most is that i was dumb enough to begin to fall for him! everyone was right. my mom was right, my brother, dana, mel… everyone. but there isnt anything i can do about it now.
the funny thing is, when bob first told me that he had told calvin, i was really worried about what calvin would tell everyone.. the constant ridicule i would begin to recieve from him again, and everything that goes with it. but then i realized, who are these people to me? yeah, it hurts to think about what’s going to be said about me. it causes anxiety to think about the looks im gonna get, the so called ‘reputation’, which is entirely made up by people to like to think they know me. but as them what my favourite thing to do is, and they won’t be able to tell you. its reading/writing, by the way. something a ’slut’ normally wouldnt say. because im not a slut.
but what hurt more then that was the fact that this person, who i trusted, betrayed me. told the one guy who he knew would put me to shame.
and what hurts even more then it all, is imagining the look on my boyfriends face when i tell him all this. the hurt in his eyes, the way he’ll try and cover it up b saying he’s ‘being dumb’ or that it doesnt matter. everything that matters to him, or is important to him, is automatically important to me. it matters to me. he is the only thing that is important to me. i dont want his opinion to change of me.
it occured to me not long ago, that i dont care if all these people think im a slut- they dont know me. but if he thinks so, it’ll kill me.
some may argue that i dont have to tell him, but that argument is flawed in a couple ways: one, he knows me too well not to notice something is wong. and two: (most important) i cant lie to him. not now, not ever. i want him to know everything about me, bad and good. i wont decieve him. never.
and that is why i’ll tell him.
in the meantime, i’ll go try and keep my mind off of it.
goodnight
-amber

I’m the equivalent of truth, and you’re the equivalent of honesty. I value this world both intrinsically and extrinsically- but yet I can see beyond what you can. I can see how low man hind can actually go, and I can see people die.. I see people die every day of my life- over and over again, and there is nothing I can do to stop it. I’m so wise for my age and my mortality, but yet so naïve. Cant you see that I’m talking? Cant I see that your listening? But are you? Are you really? I’m having a little bit of a hard time hearing tonight, they seem so far away. So far yet so close that I can touch. None of you know what I’m talking about, and you should be happy. I wish this upon no one, and I hope to God no one else on this earth gets this ability in the future. I hope it stops at me, but I know it wont.

Intrinsically, this ‘ability’ and this world is close to my heart. I can’t explain why- its just something I need to live. It’s not something I need to survive- nothing on this earth is except food and water, but in order to live, actually have the ability to experience, I need this. But extrinsically, this is a means to my end. Because this is my end- this is as far as I go. And no one else will ever go further than I have, and will. I go beyond what you see, what you dream, what you hear and what you feel. You think your loved ones are gone, but they’re standing at the end of my bed. Screaming and wringing their hands, waiting for my help.

I’m the equivalent of sadness, and you’re the equivalent of grief. We’ve both been through the same things. And we have both felt the same pain. Why do I take it upon myself to keep this load on my shoulders? Why do I think you so inexperienced? I don’t, not really. I’m no more important than you are, but no less either. I’m someone you have never seen before, a new face and a new mind. A philosopher in body and mind, but only because it started spiritually. They crawl to me, you see. They crawl like poisonous spiders, waiting for me to turn my back so they can bite, and infect me to the point of no return. But don’t they understand that I am already infected? I have already died and came back to this earth, but I never fully went. And you have no clue what I’m talking about.

I’m so alone in this world, but at the same time, always in a crowd. I wish you can see what I see so I wont be the only one, but I would never want anyone to see this. They move like broken lamps, so hastily thrown and glued back together. I’m finally getting this all out- believe if you want, its no shame for me. I’m tired of hiding who I am and what I do. This is me. I see things that aren’t meant to be seen, and I hear things that should never be known. Someone has recently inspired me to write this, and I thank him for it, because I no longer want to be ashamed of what I am.

I’m the equivalent of peace, and you’re the equivalent of mind- so help me in achieving the equivalent of us.