Welcome to Gaia! :: View User's Journal | Gaia Journals

This journal, I'm going to type in the way that I speak. I haven't felt very romantic, so I'm not going to write in any creative ways.

Things are barely any different than just a few months ago. Days go by, and not a person says a thing. That is, even if they do speak up, they fail to stand. There has been no confrontation, no words, no nothing. All that remains is a cold void.

I can't say that I will never understand what happened, because I understood almost from the beginning. I understand how selfish one can be, wanting to ignore the troubles of everyday life. I understand how easy it is to just not care about others and just throw those who do care in the dirt to wallow in the pain. I understand the need to leave the pain and its victims behind as you strive for another laugh. Another smile.

I can never do that. I can never turn my back on someone who is in pain and needs someone there. I never will be, and if somehow I do I give you permission to blow my head off, because I refuse to let myself become a heartless shell. I can't just turn my back on everything that is wrong just so I, myself, can have another laugh.

Yet I trusted someone like that. And here I learn my lesson, and I can only sit to the side as she, in a way, steals my friends away. No one does anything because they are afraid to cause trouble, and it tears me apart to know that they care more about what others think than about what is right--stopping the pain.

I can't order them to do something. I can't ridicule them for their actions, because I understand that too. I understand too goddamn much. So this is how it stays; I'll just rot, alone, while everyone else laughs.

I could care less about happiness as long as they are safe--their well-being comes first to me. I just worry if they will become like her; unable to focus on what's wrong. Unwilling to confront issues just because they are an uncomfortable thing to deal with.

I would take a bullet for them. And I have trouble believing they would do the same for me. Still, for me, it would not hurt. My heart is already gone.