2002-06-12 15:22:06 ET|
People have told me that Iím not a very communicative person, that I donít know how to express my emotions, that Iím shy, and what today happened I think it proves it... it motherfucking proves it maybe as the biggest evidence ever been... Iím the most worthless shit ever created here:
Today... Today I went again to the place where I glance at this gorgeous lady, this absolutely incredible pretty gothic face, this admirable awe which Iíve only been watching her as many some other girls Iíve watched due to their beauty, but this one is the one I saw at the opera the other night, I decided that I wanted to follow her to at least ask her name, which was now late for that because now I had investigated her name already, so now I didnít have any other excuse than ask her if I could draw her or any pathetic thing I could come up with.
So, fortunately, we took the same bus (because I also wanted to go somewhere else) and while we were waiting the bus to come on I was there... near hear...about 5 ft near hear, but I didnít dare to emit a sound to her, because she looked so adorable standing there... and we were alone there in the corner. Then the bus came on, obviously I let her get in first, which give me the chance to look part of her soothing legs because she was wearing this school-like skirt with a pair of black boots. I didnít dare to sit down the seat next to her because there were too many empty seats and itíd look too strange, so I sat on the seat behind her, so I could breathe the fresh of her hair because it barely rained and we got wet just a little. Sat there I was thinking... thinking as I always do... thinking if I should really go to speak to here... what would I say...? what would she do...? So, I started thinking that if I could ask her if sheíd go to the next orchestra performance (then I could se her again) or invite her... or if I should ask if she would like me to draw her or whatever... but I wasnít sure.
Finally, my insanity of not knowing what to do remembered me that I was carrying a bag pack where I had a notebook in which I had drawn a goth girl months ago. This draw looked so akin to her, and I remembered I drew it inspired in her... so I was planning to show it and give it to her, so that would happen then itíd be madness or whatever but at least Iíd have done something... but I couldnít dare to interrupt her beauty with my voice... then she finally stood up to get off the bus because I think she was now arriving to her home. I also stood up and got off the bus with her... when the most extraordinary weakness in me appeared: I was ready with the paper in my hand in which I had the draw to give it to her!... and almost ready to emit a sound calling her, something simple like ďhuh, excuse me... I...Ē... when I felt again the beauty of her face (because on the bus I was only able to see her front behind) and I couldnít do anything but keep walking slowly and watching and moving to another direction from her... when I figured out that I lost her because I took another way than sheís, ...I stopped... I went back again to the street she took... and she was gone... I realized that I screwed up!... ... ...I didnít dare to follow her anymore at that point because then it would look obvious that I was following her with no reason (or at least with a pathetic one). I failed to myself, again... but more ridiculously than ever.
I realized how fucking sad and damn weak I was... am... will be... always in front of that muse... and how Iíll always be this poor bastard weak as a child in front of beauty... which made me furious to myself; many many thoughts came to me then. How Iíll really go insane one day. Iíll become a vegetable, a lunatic, freaky, sickened, mental ill living being... if this is what is called my life. I wanted to yell anything, I wanted to stroke everything, I just wanted to be dead but I couldnít kill me by myself, but certainly I wonít do absolutely nothing to defend my life... so if anyone want to become a serial killer or so you may start with me Iím already fucked up... because when real people matter or get sad from real social, emotional problems, Iím suffering by the most childish grieve or sorrow with beauty. Damn me! Iím worth nothing and thatíll never change!
Iím not sure Iím going to see her again, because Iím not going to the place I frequented anymore I believe, my duty there was over today. Or maybe I will still going there due to some other problems but and if I see her itís probably that we... I mean, that I wonít have the chance to be alone with her again (yes, I think you noticed Iím quite shy). But now this wrath about my pathetic life has made feel that if something like this happens to me again, I will definitely take the chance whatever it costs, maybe more lunacy and unawareness of what Iíll be doing. ...Iím not so sure about why Iím writing this... I guess... that itís because even if someday I find happiness and joy with something or someone else, this will be my evidence of how Iím really worthless. But for now Iíll keep swallowing my sorrow Ďtil death.